


One Present Moment

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Canon-Typical Violence, Circus, Drama, Found Family, M/M, Meet Clint's Family, Meet the Family, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Post-Avengers (2012), discussion of the death of a child, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1890852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after the Battle of New York Phil and Clint are still circling each other, unsure of how to get back what they had before. A Thanksgiving trip to meet Clint's found family from the circus shows both of them a path back to each other, and a way out of the lingering shadows of Loki's attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are episodes of PTSD in this story, and references to canon violence as well as references to past child abuse. 
> 
> I have been wanting to play with the 'raised by carnies' idea for some time, and to also explore how someone with Clint's past may have emerged with the decency and inner strength that we all like about him. My answer might be simple, but sometimes the best things in life are just that. Thanks to lexxorz for a wonderful beta read.

“[Life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you hardly catch it going.](http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/t/tennesseew147298.html)” – Tennessee Williams

Clint never asked for time off. He banked every single personal day agents were allowed…though he didn’t even really understand what they were until Phil explained it to him. Clint didn’t have much experience with personal days and 401K plans before working for the government. Not that they could take personal days often, but when there was down time they could call in and go to a ballgame or something if they wanted. When Clint found out about them, he just shrugged and said, “I don’t really want to go to ballgames.” So he banked his days, getting extra pay (that he also banked) instead.

A few years in, though, after Clint and Phil established themselves as one of the best teams in SHIELD history, just before they added Natasha and became Strike Team Delta, Clint showed up in Phil’s office with a sheepish look on his face and asked for Thanksgiving off. “Just a few days, sir,” he insisted, and then spent the next couple minutes assuring Phil that he was ready and more than willing to get called out on a mission and miss Thanksgiving if they _really_ needed him.

He was so reassuring that Phil raised an eyebrow and said, “Do you _want_ me to call you out?”

Clint sighed and said, “No. I have somewhere to be.” And he left the office with a wave.

Phil didn’t ask until the next year when Clint requested Thanksgiving off again.

He grinned and said, “Standing invitation?” because he was pleased that Clint had somewhere to go that wasn’t SHIELD, and pleased that Clint might have people in his life other than SHIELD agents.

“Yes, sir,” Clint answered. “Natasha needs the time, too, by the way, but she’s nervous about asking. I didn’t want her to be alone on base, but she’s not used to this sort of thing, either.”

“I’ll get both of you cleared,” Phil said, and shoved a pang of jealousy deep into his chest.

Natasha didn’t go with Clint every year, and Phil learned that his jealousy was unfounded when she started spending Thanksgiving and every other holiday with Hill. For Phil, signing Clint’s paperwork for Thanksgiving became one of his favorite things, really, because keeping Clint happy steadily became his _very_ favorite thing, and if the only way he could do that was through paperwork and vacation days, well. He took what he could get.

That all changed after New Mexico.

As it turned out, Phil had other ways of making Clint happy, and the months that followed Thor’s arrival on Earth were some of their best. Clint began staying more nights than not at Phil’s apartment off-base, and they spent every moment of their downtime together. They wandered the city’s bookshops and record stores, hung out in Greenwich Village discovering a mutual appreciation for jazz and live music, and relished the ability to wake in each other’s arms whenever they weren’t on mission.

It was only months before Loki came and ruined everything.

When Clint put in his request for this Thanksgiving off, they hadn’t woken up together once since the Battle of New York. They _were_ trying to be there for each other, Clint attending Phil’s physical therapy sessions whenever he was on base, Phil cooking dinner for Clint whenever Clint was willing to spend evenings with him. But Clint insisted that he sleep in his own place at the Tower because he didn’t want Phil to lose his needed rest due to Clint’s apparently violent nightmares, and they were getting really good at avoiding any serious conversations.

When they did let their conversations approach Loki, Clint ended up shouting at Phil for stepping in front of a god, and Phil retaliated that Clint was refusing to let go of unfounded guilt. They both spent a lot of breath accusing each other of hiding from what really happened during those hellish three days. Phil would feel Clint’s anger rolling off him in waves, and he wanted to make it go away, but how could he apologize for a last-ditch attempt at killing the maniac who ripped the center of his universe from him?

It was four months since Phil’s brush with death and Clint had four documented panic attacks, was only cleared for Avengers work because Steve and Tony insisted they all needed him desperately, and took _hours_ to calm down after an Avengers mission.

He wasn’t cleared for SHIELD missions yet. He attended therapy with Evan Crawford, SHIELD’s top psychologist, and would show up for dinner wrung out and pliant on those days, his eyes dark and shadowed. Phil would cook and they would eat silently, and then just curl together on the couch in front of a ball game until Clint would stand and stretch and go back to the Tower. Phil wanted him to stay, always wanted him to stay, but Clint hid behind his inability to sleep and still insisted on leaving.

They didn’t sleep together, and they didn’t share more than the occasional passionate good-night kiss. Clint seemed afraid of Phil’s body, afraid of his own hands, afraid of. . . them. Phil hated it.

Now Clint stood in Phil’s office stiffly, asked for Thanksgiving vacation time. He said he didn’t really want to go, that his friends were insisting and he didn’t want to let them down. After a pause, he met Phil’s gaze and added, “They want you to come, too.”

“They do?” Phil couldn’t hide his surprise, and he swallowed down hope as Clint scowled at the floor like it had offended him.

“Yeah. When we got together last year it was right after Thanksgiving and Ruby was pissed she didn’t get to meet you. She’s the one insisting that you come along this year.”

There was a stretch of silence, and Phil swallowed thickly before he asked, “Do you want me to come?” He remembered all those years of signing Clint’s paperwork for the time off, and he tried to keep himself from wishing too hard right now.

Clint threw himself onto Phil’s couch with a sigh. “Yes. No. I don’t _know_.”

Phil had a sudden, surprising feeling that they were going to have A Conversation, and those were rare in these days of stoic support. He moved to the couch next to Clint and leaned into his shoulder. “I’ll understand if you want to go by yourself.” And he would. Really, Clint was reeling from Manhattan. Phil wanted to keep their relationship going but wasn’t sure how. Small touches, the way Clint’s body unwound when he’d crash on Phil’s couch, the way the stress lines around his eyes would soften when he leaned against the door to Phil’s apartment all showed Phil signs of love, but Clint didn’t really seem able reconcile that with the aftereffects of Loki.

Clint rubbed his hand over his face. “I think you should come. I think it would be good for us to get out of here for a while and –“ he stopped and dropped his head, breathing deep.

“Clint?” Phil asked, and he put a tentative hand on Clint’s back and rubbed gently.

“I think I need you to come,” Clint finally whispered.

Phil felt a small weight lift from his chest. “Okay,” he answered. “I’ll come.”

Clint just nodded, wiped his face with his shirt, and left.

Phil felt a little like he was preparing for his first sleepover when he was a kid, trading a shirt here, a pair of pajamas there – no, he would NOT bring his Cap jammies Clint had bought him when he was convalescing in the hospital after Loki – generally taking twice as long as he should have to pack. He also might have packed a week early, but this way he was ready. Unless an emergency came up, they had a Wednesday through Monday off, their first length of time off together since they started dating.

Clint got quieter and quieter the closer they got to leaving, and his eyes seemed to grow more and more distant, so when they sat down to dinner in Phil’s kitchen the night before their trip, Phil had to ask, “Do you still want me to come?”

Clint looked up sharply from his plate and then sighed. “Yes. I’m just a little nervous.” He paused and took a drink of his water before meeting Phil’s gaze. “I talked to Evan at my psych appointment about it today.”

“That can be exhausting,” Phil answered with a smile.

Clint nodded. “Yeah. Yeah it was. Evan thinks it’s a good idea, though, going back there.”

It took Phil a second, but then he looked at Clint in surprise. “Going back there?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve only really been around you guys since Loki. I haven’t really talked to anyone outside the Avengers about it and they’re gonna want to know what happened. I mean,” he said, pushing himself back from the table a little, “I don’t plan on telling them anything major, like trying to blow up the Helicarrier or anything, but they know I’m an Avenger now – they’ve seen me on the news. They’re going to want to want something, and I dunno –“

Phil realized he must have been gaping.

“Phil, what did you think I was nervous abo—oh, shit. No. I _want_ you to go. I want you to meet them. You thought I didn’t want you along?”

Phil didn’t answer, torn between suddenly feeling selfish about making the trip about him when it clearly wasn’t, and shouldn’t be, and feeling so fucking relieved because he thought this might be another nail in the threatening coffin of their relationship. Before he could think up a response, Clint was on his feet, pulling Phil into an embrace, and burying his head in Phil’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I keep screwing things up,” Clint said into Phil’s shirt. He leaned back and put his hand around the back of Phil’s neck, and met Phil’s eyes with an intensity absent since the battle. Phil’s breath hitched and it seemed like the air in the room got thicker, heavier.

“I want you to come. I am absolutely ecstatic about introducing you to the people who took care of me as a kid and I know they’re gonna love you. I _know_ it. Well,” Clint said, squinting one eye shut, “Christopher might not like you, but I don’t give a fuck about what he thinks, never have. But the rest of them are gonna love you, and you’ll be fine. You and Ruby will get along like a house on fire.” He took a deep breath as if he were going to keep going, but Phil didn’t let him.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Clint’s lips, tasting spaghetti sauce and eagerness. Clint sighed into his mouth, and Phil kissed him deeply, running his tongue over Clint’s teeth and pulling his body close. He could feel Clint’s body heat simmering and refused to let Clint back away. He kissed him like he hadn’t since the battle and let the excitement about the trip buoy his confidence that they were facing this together, this was their journey. He let himself explore Clint’s mouth as he ran his hands over Clint’s cabled arms and then down his back.

Clint returned the kiss and ran his hands almost frantically over Phil’s body, searching for what they had lost in the battle, the physical closeness Clint hadn’t allowed since they returned to each other. Palpable desire filled Phil’s mouth and warmed his skin, and dinner was forgotten as they moved to the bedroom without breaking their embrace.

Phil pushed Clint onto the bed and leaned over, unbuckling Clint’s jeans slowly as he pushed Clint’s shirt up and kissed his tanned stomach and ran his tongue from Clint’s navel down to the tip of his jeans, drawing a moan from Clint that made his own dick twitch expectantly. He glanced up at Clint and grinned as he pulled the jeans off and quickly pushed up under Clint’s t-shirt, running his hands over Clint’s chest, rubbing his nipples and wrapping his hands around his ribcage possessively. He held him tight and leaned up and pressed another kiss to Clint’s lips. Clint pushed his tongue into Phil’s mouth slowly but deliberately as he reached up and started to unbutton Phil’s shirt.

Clint’s fingers were nimble and he had Phil’s shirt shucked to the side of the bed quickly, and Phil pulled back from the kiss and slowly undid his own pants, teasing Clint with his pace but leaning over and shimmying out of them while he pressed his chest against Clint’s, keeping him pinned to the bed and straddling him as he threw his pants and boxers aside.

Clint looked at Phil’s body and licked his lips, smirking as he mirrored Phil in pulling his t-shirt off.  He ran his hands down Phil’s chest – hesitating only a second over the jagged scar - and over his leaking cock. Phil shuddered as Clint pressed his thumb against the head of his dick and leaned forward again, pulling Clint up and into his arms. They fought for control of the kiss, but Phil didn’t relent until he realized Clint was still wearing his boxers. Then he pulled away and sat up on his knees, pulled Clint free and pressed his hands into Clint’s hips, pushing him into the bed and letting their cocks rub together. He moaned into the contact as Clint closed his eyes and shuddered under Phil’s hands.

Phil lost himself for a minute, teasing Clint’s hole with his dick and reaching up and gripping Clint’s cock in his hand, enjoying the sharp breaths Clint couldn’t control, watching Clint’s face carefully as the mask he’d been wearing like a shield since Loki crumbled away. Phil leaned up and pressed his mouth to Clint’s ear and whispered, “Do you want me?” and took Clint’s whimper and nod as a yes. He prepped Clint carefully with one hand as he kissed down his chest and bit a nipple just to feel the hitch in Clint’s breath with a grin.

When Clint was loose, Phil slipped a condom on and pressed into Clint slowly. He gasped at the feel, at how Clint opened for him, at the feel of filling him up, giving Clint something he needed but had been afraid to ask for since Phil’s recovery.

Clint pushed against him greedily, digging his fingers into Phil’s hips and making Phil hiss, the pain a jolt of pleasure up Phil’s spine. Phil found a rhythm and reached down for Clint’s dick again, wet and full. He gripped it tightly as he pressed into Clint and Clint groaned in pleasure and threw his head back, eyes closed and mouth open, and he looked sublime to Phil. He picked up his pace and jerked Clint off with the same rhythm, and just as his own orgasm pulled a shudder and yell from deep in his throat, Clint yelled, too, and they rode the aftershocks together, pulling close, wrapping each other in a tight grip, feeling the shudders as if they were one body.

Phil was panting, so he slowed his breathing down, pulled out of Clint carefully, and gently pushed Clint back to the bed, running his hands down Clint’s cheeks and watching him try to control his own breath. He carefully wiped the silent tears that were tracking down Clint’s face away with his thumb. He leaned over and kissed the corner of each of Clint’s eyes and then down his cheek. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He pulled Clint into his arms and moved so he could lean back against the headboard as Clint laid across his chest, burying his face in Phil’s shoulder. He was trembling and breathing hard, soundlessly trying to stifle his tears. “Shhh,” Phil whispered. “It’s okay. We’re together now and we’re going to be okay. I’ve got you, Clint.”

“I’m sorry,” Clint said, his voice muffled by Phil’s skin. “I’m so sorry.”

Phil wasn’t sure what Clint was apologizing for, but he knew it encompassed the three months since the battle that they’d been hovering around each other, afraid to touch, so afraid to break the other that they were hurting themselves with the distance. They both had things they felt the need to atone for, so he just nodded and said, “I know. Me, too, Clint. Me, too.” And he ran his hands through Clint’s hair and rubbed soothing circles on his back until Clint relaxed against him and they both fell into a dreamless sleep.

They woke early in the morning, grinning stupidly at each other for a minute before kissing lazily and then grudgingly getting up to shower. They took it together, taking turns gently scrubbing and massaging their hair, and washing each other reverently. They didn’t talk much. Phil was content to let the moment be for now.

They ate a quick breakfast and loaded the car. They had a drive ahead of them.

They took Clint’s car, which was a bonus to the trip for Phil because Clint had a forest green 1967 Ford Shelby GT Mustang that rode like a dream, and Phil hadn't gotten to ride in it for months. He crossed his fingers that Clint would let him drive it before the weekend was over. They made it out of the city in good time, heading for the Midwest where Clint’s friend Ruby and her husband, Christopher, had a farm house in the southern hills of Ohio. It would take about fourteen hours to get there, and they were hoping to make it to Cleveland on the first day.

Despite their breakthrough night before, Clint was pretty quiet as they drove, wordlessly changing music from time to time or handing Phil control of the iPod and custom sound system. He and Phil shared a love of live jazz and some current bands, but diverged on most everything else. Phil chose what he knew Clint loved, filling the car with Janis Joplin when it was his turn to pick.

Clint shook his head and offered a small smile. "You may want to listen to your punk stuff while you can, Phil. There's a reason I like this garbage and you'll probably be sick of it before the weekend is out." He adjusted his faded blue baseball hat and shifted in his seat, and just shrugged when Phil left the album on despite his words.

Phil brought work to do, of course, and he did it while he waited for Clint to want to talk, but it was a few more albums before that happened. Finally, Clint sighed and looked over at Phil. "Did you read everyone's file before you left?" he asked.

"Whose files?" Phil replied, a little confused.

"You know. My friends. I just figured you had looked them up."

Phil tried not to be annoyed, but mostly failed. "Why would I look them up? I figured you'd tell me about them."

Clint’s eyebrows shot up, and he blew a breath through his pursed lips. "Oh." He looked over and seemed to notice Phil's tense form. "Sorry."

Phil nodded. "I wouldn't invade your privacy like that."

"Oh. Okay."

“Tell me about them?”

“Well, I’ll give you names, but you can find out about them yourself. You’re good at that anyway,” Clint said lightly, and he proceeded to rattle off Ruby, Christopher, Isaac, Suzy, Chloe, and Jake. Apparently there was a dog named Champ.

After finally getting through Columbus, Ohio on the second day, the hills started rising up to meet them, small at first but rolling into small mountains as they got closer to Ruby and Christopher’s house. Phil marveled at how the grass got greener as they went, and how trees started to splash the hills with orange and red, thickening into a canopy as they wound through the last town they’d see.

“It’s beautiful down here,” Phil said, breaking the silence that had stretched since they stopped for lunch in Columbus.

“Yeah,” Clint answered. “I think Ruby’s grandma or aunt or something had the house and she used to visit here as a kid. There are some pretty cool caves to hike through if we want to.” Clint glanced over at Phil and grinned. “You okay?” And he looked at Phil’s hand, which he had unconsciously clenched into a fist.

Phil unclenched it and shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” He looked back down at his hand and wiped it on his jeans. “No?” There really was no use hiding it.

Clint reached over and squeezed his knee. “Phil Coulson, nervous?”

“This is a scenario I’ve never actually been in before,” he answered.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never met someone’s family before?”

“Actually, no. Thank you for giving me an absolutely new experience at my age,” he said, and then he sat up straighter. “Wait. They do know I’m older than you, right?” He had a vision of them thinking he was a cradle robber, something that Jasper had joked about once and only once. Phil had trouble holding his temper when it came to Clint early on, and Jasper never brought the nine year age difference up again after that.

Clint chuckled. “Yeah, but they also know I’ve always gone for older guys. You get to meet Isaac, and he was my first real crush. He’s a little older than you.”

Phil’s jaw actually dropped a little and Clint laughed outright. Phil was so grateful for the sound that he almost forgot to ask. “Your first crush?”

Clint cut his eyes back to the road. “Yep. He’s about fifty-five now. He was the set and effects designer and he used to let me help out building crap. He would also loan me books and make me sit down and talk to him or Ruby about them. I did it without complaining because it meant I got to talk to him for an hour. He has these amazing green eyes and black wavy hair, and this voice like – well, he could’ve been a performer in a heartbeat if he weren’t so wrapped up in the technical stuff. He didn’t realize until it was too late that I was interested in more than just his books and building things.” Clint’s voice sounded wistful and bemused.

Phil tried to imagine a young Clint hunkering down on a straw bale or bench with a book and an older man. The image of someone trying to teach Clint about literature was kind of comforting, actually. “Too late? What did you do?”

Clint sucked in a breath. “I might have tried to kiss him one sunny afternoon.” He glanced nervously over at Phil, who tried to stifle a grin.

“It didn’t go so well. He was caught way off guard, so he kinda flipped out and stayed away from me after that. He wasn’t mean about it, and it was right near the end of my run in the circus anyway, but that was the last time we read together.” He paused for a minute and then shrugged. “We talked about it a little the first time I came out for Thanksgiving. I didn’t blame him for freaking out. I was a punk kid and he wasn’t interested. He could probably have gotten in some trouble if he had kissed me back anyway. I wasn’t thinking about that when I was sixteen.”

Phil watched the line of Clint’s shoulders as he talked about what must have been a defining moment for him as a teenager. There was no tension, and the warmth in his voice as he told Phil about Isaac was clear.

It helped Phil relax a little, actually. He was going to meet the people who shaped the parts of Clint Phil loved best, it seemed. People who took care of him and tried to guide him, who stepped away when they could have hurt him. Phil had enough experience of his own with guys who weren’t interested – they could be cruel if they wanted to. He was anxious to meet the man who first stole Clint’s heart but didn’t hurt him in the end.

Clint had enough people who had hurt him in the end.

The road narrowed as they talked, and finally turned into a dirty, dusty country lane. Clint turned off the radio and pulled to a slow stop.

“What are you doing?” Phil asked, and Clint turned his body in the seat so he was facing Phil.

“Look, I just wanted to say that if you get uncomfortable, you tell me. We don’t have to stay. I know what it’s like to feel out of place and I don’t want that for you. I just have to stay a night and see everyone, and then we can leave if you want.” He was turned toward Phil, but he wasn’t really meeting Phil’s gaze.

Phil reached over and pushed Clint’s chin up to find his eyes. Behind the gorgeous blue he saw hesitation and doubt lurking. “I’m going to be fine. We’ll stay the weekend like we planned and it’ll be great.” He leaned back and put his hand on the dashboard. “Besides, if I need to get away for a bit I’ll just take the car for a spin.”

Clint rolled his eyes and turned back to the wheel. “Now I know why you came. I’m just trying to be nice and you’re trying to steal the car.”

“Yup,” Phil answered as Clint put the car back into drive and headed down the lane. “I always have backup plans, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. All you had to do was ask, asshole.”

“It’s better if you feel like you’re offering.”

“Just wait and see if I offer anything this weekend,” Clint grumbled, but Phil was distracted by the oak trees that lined the driveway and the house that slipped into view, finally.

It was nestled in the trees and against a hill, and it was a warm brown slat covered house that looked like it had started out as a simple one-story cabin and then been added to over the years. Now it was two stories tall and had a wraparound porch covered in rocking chairs, hanging plants, and fall-colored rugs. The windows had pale blue shutters and the chimney was smoking. A gorgeous black Labrador came running from behind the house and barked loudly at the car. Phil figured that was Champ.

A tall woman with long gray hair tied back in a ponytail and a sparkling smile came out the front door as Clint parked, and a younger blond woman who seemed to be about Clint’s age came jogging toward them from the backyard. Her face was streaked with dirt but her blue eyes shone as her smile widened with every step toward Clint. Another woman who was strikingly tall, had soft brown skin and dark curly hair halfway down her back came around the corner of the house behind her and was wiping her hands on a checkered handkerchief and watching warily.

“Clint!” the blond woman shouted, and Clint unfolded himself from the car just in time to be wrapped in a bear hug. He laughed and swung the woman around playfully before setting her on the ground and pulling away, just in time to be enveloped from behind by the older woman.

Clint turned and melted into her embrace. He buried his head in her shoulder and soft flannel shirt, and she glanced over at Phil briefly, her soft brown eyes wide, before turning her attention back to Clint, brushing her hand through his hair gently as he clung to her like a koala. “Hey, kiddo,” she said softly.

The younger woman cocked her head at Clint and the older woman and then glanced over at Phil, running her eyes down his frame and back to his face. She wasn’t smiling, but she seemed to catch herself and a friendly grin appeared as she stepped around the car and held her hand out.

“You must be Phil,” she said, and Phil thought her voice sounded like a low-pitched wind-chime. It matched her dancing eyes and loose body.

He shook her hand and nodded. “Yes, thanks for inviting me.”

She smiled wider and more genuinely as she shook his hand in a firm grip. “Of course we invited you. Clint’s face does this thing when he talks about you and we needed to see who could manage that.”

That got Clint’s attention and he pulled away from his hug. His eyes were shining and wet, but he was grinning sheepishly. Phil began a new chart in his head and put Clint’s reaction to this woman in the “I’ve never seen Clint do that before” category.

“What thing with my face?” Clint demanded, wrapping his arm around the older woman’s waist, as if he didn’t want to let her slip from his touch.

The two women laughed.

“You know, that thing with your eyes – they squint up and do this _thing_ when you talk about him. It’s adorable,” the younger one said, talking to Phil at the end. He couldn’t help but grin at them.

Clint cleared his throat. “Okay, fine. I like him. Everyone, this is Phil. Phil, this is Ruby,” he said as he squeezed the older woman’s waist, “And this is Suzy,” he said, nodding at the younger woman who shook Phil’s hand. As he introduced them, the tall woman who was out back with Suzy approached quietly.

“Hey, Clint,” she said, and her voice was rich and warm, but didn’t have the familiar tone that the others had.

“Chloe, hey,” he said and gestured at Phil. “That’s Phil.”

She reached her hand out and Phil took it. “I’m with Suzy,” she said with a grin, and something relaxed in Phil’s chest as he realized he wasn’t going to be the only outsider here, although she’d clearly been here before.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he answered and looked at everyone. “All of you.”

Clint pulled apart from Ruby, grudgingly, it seemed, and shut his car door. “Where are Isaac and Christopher and Jake?” he asked.

“They’re out back setting up the net. They were right in the middle –“Chloe started, but she was interrupted by a deep yell.

“Clliiiiiiinnnnt! Yes! It’s about damned time!”

Phil glanced around the women and saw a tall, sturdy-looking man with short greying hair and rich green eyes raise tanned hands in the air as he hollered at Clint. He was wearing a dark Grateful Dead t-shirt, faded jeans and green Chuck Taylor’s. Clint laughed and jogged over to him and wrapped him in as big a hug as he’d given Ruby. The man was a couple inches taller than Clint and he leaned back and pulled him off the ground. Clint held on tight.

Ruby stepped around the car and clasped Phil’s hand. “Come on. Time to meet the boys.” He let himself be led toward the man he knew must be Isaac and watched as he let go of Clint and ruffled his hair. Clint swallowed thickly and reached out for Phil. Ruby passed his hand to Clint’s and Phil smiled.

“Isaac,” Clint said, “This is Phil. Phil, this-“Clint’s voice broke and Phil pulled him in close to his side as Isaac narrowed his eyes. “This is Isaac,” Clint finished, his voice rough, and he pulled away from Phil and wrapped his arms around himself. Phil wanted to pull him back, but he didn’t, giving Clint his space.

This was a new reaction and Phil didn’t have all the intel.

“Clint?” Isaac asked, stepping toward him.

“Fuck,” Clint whispered and he ran a hand down his face and clenched his teeth. He looked up at Phil and then over at Isaac.

Phil could see Ruby as she stopped herself from reaching for Clint, and when he looked at Clint he saw a flash of a scared young kid suddenly realizing that these were people who cared for him.

“It’s just,” Clint said, and he sucked in a deep breath, steadying himself. “It’s really fucking good to see you guys.” He moved back to Phil and leaned into his side. “It’s been – it’s been a really bad year and it’s good to see you guys.”

Clint had just shown more emotion in public in five minutes than he had in three months, and Phil’s stomach churned at the implication of the importance of these people in Clint’s life. It looked like Clint had underestimated it, too.

Ruby smiled widely, graciousness settling into her stance. “And it’s been a long drive and I’ll bet you’re both exhausted. Come on in and have a sandwich and get settled. You three,” she said, pointing at Clint’s friends, “Go out back and see what’s keeping Christopher and Jake tied up. Make sure they haven’t tangled themselves in that net.”

They all nodded, and Clint and Phil followed Ruby inside.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Home. Clint had never really had the walls or yard or Saturday morning cartoons, but he would be lying to himself if he said he’d never had a home. Ruby was home. Isaac was home. Suzy and Christopher and Jake were home, and now Phil was home. Clint followed Ruby into her old family house and knew this place was home. Ruby had made sure of that.

The first time he’d been to Ruby’s house in Hocking Hills, he’d been scared shitless.

In his second year at SHIELD, after a mission that had left Clint in rehab for three months, Nick Fury had looked him in the eye and said that he owed Clint one for it. Two months later, Clint hovered outside Fury’s office for an hour before sucking in a deep breath, asking admittance, and standing in front of Fury’s desk with his arms tight behind his back.

“Did you mean it when you said you owed me, sir?” he’d asked, staring straight ahead.

“What can I do for you, Hawkeye?”

“I’d like you to find someone for me, sir. If you can.” Clint swore that Fury almost smiled, but he couldn’t really confirm it because it was gone in an instant and a nod. Fury had handed him an address and phone number for Ruby a week later. Clint didn’t have the guts to call her, but he wrote a short letter explaining that he finally had a stable job and place to live. He’d asked if she would be interested in getting together, or maybe she could just write him back and let him know how she was?

Her reply had been an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner.

When he’d arrived that first time, he’d been shy and quiet. He was surprised how being around these people brought out the same kinds of reactions he’d had sixteen years earlier. Ruby made his chest warm and filled him with confidence with just a touch. She’d smothered him in hugs and held his hand most of the weekend once she realized it was okay with him. He soaked her affection up and felt the same calm and comfort he’d found when he’d sat on the floor of her trailer eating soup with his legs stretched out in front of him, or when she stood next to him in her portable ring that held Lily and Biidzhil, the lioness and lion that were the star of the animal acts. She’d let him feed them and brush them, and helped get him in their good graces.

When he was younger, just knowing Ruby was with him felt safe, even when she was cleaning a cut on his cheek or the gashes from a beating – she always did that as she cussed out Trick or the Swordsman or whoever Clint had managed to piss off that day. He even had vague memories of her standing over his hospital bed after Barney stabbed him. She’d been crying, saying she was sorry she had to go on with the circus, reassuring him that she and Isaac and Jake would be there for him when he caught back up to them.

He never did, and he never saw her again. At least until he stood in her front yard with a duffel bag and fear soaking his bones. He was afraid they’d see the black marks on his soul from all the killing he’d done and tell him to get lost and never come back.

They didn’t. Ruby, Isaac, Suzy, and Jake had hugged him, and Christopher had even shook his hand, joking that even mangy pups eventually grew up to be fighting dogs. He’d nodded with approval when Clint revealed that he worked for the government as a specialist/consultant for weaponry and marksmanship. Clint’s feeling of home began to leach the fear away as soon as he set foot in Ruby’s house that day, and now he wondered if it would do the same again as he led Phil through the front door.

The smell of chili wafted over them as they entered the sitting room and let the door shut behind them. The old wood floor creaked under Clint’s shoes and the light from the one floor lamp in the room was soft and muted.

“Clint, you and Phil are in your usual room,” Ruby said as she led them to the whitewashed stairs. “Come on down when you’re settled. Jake made a pot of chili and his cornbread so that folks could eat whenever they want, and there’s coffee if you want it.”

“Christopher’s coffee?” Clint asked with a smile.

“Of course. Load of sludge that it is,” Ruby said with a practiced frown.

“One of the top ten reasons to come here for Thanksgiving, you mean.”

“Get outta here and get yourselves comfortable. You know Jake’s gonna want you to test his line soon.”

Clint pulled on Phil’s arm, “Come on. I’ll show you our room.” He swallowed down the thread of anxiety over having to share a room – they’d slept together last night, after all – and Phil followed him upstairs. They made their way down the long, narrow hallway at the top. “There are five bedrooms, but Jake likes the couch downstairs, so I always get this room,” Clint said as he opened the second white door on the left. It creaked on its hinges like always, and opened into a small bedroom with just enough room for a queen bed, a dresser, and a nightstand cramped together.

Clint threw his small suitcase on the bed and motioned for Phil to do the same. “Bathroom’s that first door on the left we passed, and it’s small, but the shower is _awesome_. If you want to grab one before we go down, that’s cool.”

Phil looked around the room, taking in the half-opened window and its light green curtains, the dresser with picture frames covering the top, and the periwinkle blue area rug draping the floor. Clint took the opportunity to soak in the sight of Phil in jeans and a navy blue sweater, having been denied the sight while driving. When Phil stepped over to the pictures on the dresser, though, Clint groaned. Phil’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Don’t want me looking at these?” Phil asked, his voice dripping with sarcastic innocence.

“It’s an inevitability, and there are more downstairs anyway. I’m not getting around it. Just remember, it was the late seventies and early eighties. Try not to judge.” Phil chuckled, and Clint wandered over and put his chin on Phil’s shoulder to peer over it. Phil was holding a shot of Clint sprawled out on his stomach on the black and white linoleum floor of Ruby’s trailer, dressed only in jeans. His skin was tanned and his hair was shaggy and hanging just across his eyes, and he was laying there drawing a picture on an old brown paper grocery bag, flipping the camera off casually.

“I just like how relaxed you look,” Phil said. “Not to mention your body.”

Clint poked Phil in the side. “I was, like, fourteen there, creeper.”

“You look mature for your age,” Phil countered. “And hot. Sorry.”

Clint gave Phil’s shoulder a playful shove and then unzipped his suitcase and started pulling things out. He nudged Phil aside and loaded his things into two of the drawers. “For that I get the top drawers,” he said.

“Worth it.”

Clint finished and Phil loaded his stuff carefully and they both threw their suitcases into the closet in the corner of the room. Clint sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to shower?”

“No, that’s okay. Let’s go meet the others.”

Clint didn’t move, but stared at Phil for a minute until Phil raised one eyebrow at him.

“What?” Phil asked, sitting down next to Clint.

“I don’t know,” Clint answered, and he didn’t. He was feeling jumbled and jumpy, and he had a tight coil of nerves low in his belly when he looked at Phil in this place.

“You seemed overwhelmed out in the yard,” Phil said, sounding tentative, careful. “Are you okay?”

Clint considered the question, but came up blank. “I guess. I’m real glad you’re here, annoying old pictures and all. I’m glad to be here – I love this crazy house. It’s just…” he started.

And then a thought hit him and knocked the words out of his mouth.

That fear from his first visit? That was what was churning in his stomach. His soul was even blacker now, after New York, and his friends thought he was a superhero. _Ruby welcomed him back into her home_. What the fuck was he going to tell them? How was he going to explain that he wasn’t a hero without showing them the shit he’d done?

“Clint,” Phil said, and Clint turned instinctively at his tone. It was commanding and sharp, and Clint realized he’d gripped the bedspread tightly and was breathing harder. Fuck. This was a safe place. His brain knew he was okay but his body wouldn’t listen. Sessions with Evan had taught him that his body was responding instinctively to his confusion and fear, but that didn’t help when he was sitting here in Ruby’s home with the air thinning and his palms sweating and the lights feeling like they were burning into his eyes.

“Clint, breathe with me, okay? I’m here with you,” Phil said, and pulled Clint’s hand to his chest. The heartbeats were strong and forceful against his palm. He closed his eyes and felt the rise and fall of Phil’s chest, listened to Phil’s gentle voice murmuring ‘in, out, in, out, come on.’

Clint finally took a deep, slow breath and looked back at Phil. He met Phil’s warm eyes and focused on the assurance he saw there, told himself again that Phil was on his side and he could help, that he wouldn’t leave Clint alone here, no matter how lost Clint felt. He breathed deeply again and nodded.

“Okay. I’m okay.” He pulled his hand away and started to stand.

“Wait.”

Clint sat back down and Phil put his hand on Clint’s knee.

“Do you need to talk about this? Are you sure you want to go out there right now? Maybe a shower would help you if you don’t want to talk.” Phil’s voice was urgent, filled with concern and caution.

Clint’s chest tightened with warmth. Phil Coulson was good at options.

Clint leaned forward with his hands on his thighs and nodded. “Maybe a shower.” He’d take the easy option for now. Explaining his fear seemed impossible at the moment, but a break before facing Jake and the others would help.

It did, and as he toweled off his hair and headed downstairs to join Phil in the kitchen, he heard a deep voice, rich with laughter.

“So when he hit the pole with those knives that Jacque had never let anyone else hold, you’d have thought the room was going to blow up with the noise we all made. That little punk hit it every single time! I knew he was trouble.”

Clint grinned as he rounded the corner into the kitchen and said, “Trouble for you, for sure, old man.”

Jake Hancock was only an inch or two taller than Clint, but his flaming red hair and wide smile always seemed to make him seem bigger. He filled a room when he was in it, and Clint used to sit with the other kids at the portable picnic table under the mess tent as rain pelted the canopy and Jake held court. He would sit on top of the table while the kids gathered around, and he would tell story after story about crowds, towns, tricks, spectacles from the days before the kids showed up. Clint used to hang onto his every word. He’d thought maybe he’d be like that someday, an old-timer who made the circus his life and was kick-ass enough to stay in the center ring long past when most guys left.

Jake turned his eyes to Clint now, and Clint felt a pang of sadness as he saw the hunched shoulders, the thinned hair, and the new wrinkles on his face since last year. "Hey kid," Jake said warmly as Clint stepped fully into the kitchen. Clint took in Phil with his mug of coffee, Ruby at a counter stirring a fruit bowl together, and the back storm door open enough for him to see the others out back, working on something.

Jake stepped toward him and then stopped a little short, put his hands on Clint's biceps, and cocked his head. "You look like shit, Clint," he said gently, and Clint remembered those hands gripping his arms as a kid, holding him back from a fight with a scrawny brown-haired boy he couldn't remember the name of, a few knock-down, drag out fights with Barney in the field behind Trick's trailer, a townie or three. He remembered the 'he's not worth it, leave it go,' said each time, and the way Jake led him away as Clint’s teenage body shook with rage, embarrassment, fear – all of the anger he just didn’t know what to do with. When he found his bow, Jake didn’t have to drag him away from fights as often, but he still did.

Isaac had been one to talk Clint down, Suzy would distract him, Ruby would feed him the cold apple cider that he loved, but Jake was always the one to pull him away.

"Thanks, Jake. Always one to pull your punches, aren't you?"

Jake smirked and raised his cup in a salute.

"You meet Phil?" Clint asked, grabbing a mug from the yellow painted cupboard and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against Phil, who was standing next to the refrigerator opposite the door.

"Yep," Jake answered. "Not sure what makes your face do that thing yet, but he seems okay."

Clint glanced over at Phil, who was blushing a little. "I have no idea what he's talking about," he said to Phil.

"If it's the same thing your face does when you eat a good pie, maybe I'll figure it out later," Phil said, and Jake laughed.

"It might be. It might be," Jake said. "Come on, kid, bring your coffee with you. Christopher and I have a line set up and we want you and Suzy to test it for us."

Clint rolled his eyes, took a sip of his coffee, rolled his shoulders, and turned to Phil. "They always set up a high wire in the back yard. Wanna see?"

Phil looked like someone just handed him a Captain America trading card. He nodded a little too furiously and said, "Oh, yeah. Definitely."

They stepped outside onto the lightly stained deck Ruby and Christopher had just added on last year and Clint surveyed the yard. There were a lot of trees, so they always had to go a ways back from the house to raise the wire, toward the creek that ran at the edge of the property. There was an open space between the tree line and the creek, and Christopher had a full crash net posted beneath a wire about twenty-five feet off the ground.

Phil stopped short on the deck as they headed for the stairs and squinted at the net and up at the wire. The whole set-up was about sixty yards from the house, and it was just past a small, pristine-looking, red utility shed. There was a rickety-looking ladder up to a small platform and wire, and the creek raged noisily just a few feet from the net. "That," Phil said, "Is a surreal sight."

Clint bumped his shoulder. "I'm gonna teach you how to walk it before the weekend's over." He’d said it impulsively, but immediately he felt he really wanted to do it. He wanted to show Phil how to do something he'd learned at the circus. Sure, he'd given him an archery lesson or five, but this was different, something private he could share. Phil would feel really good about it, too, and that always made Clint happy.

"What?" Phil replied. Then, "No way."

"Why? I taught Nat, and if we send her a video of you walking the wire she'll spit beer out her nose in front of Maria. It'll be great."

"It'll go on the SHIELD closed-circuit TV is what you mean, so doubly no."

Clint laughed. "Awww, Phil. I'll make her swear not to share it. I'll wait till we get back and we're out at the bar together before I show it to her. You can do it, though! It'll be great," he repeated, and he grabbed Phil's hand and led him down the steps to the yard. They walked through the orange and yellow trees, Phil pulling his jacket a little closer and Clint rolling the sleeves of his sweatshirt down. He loved fall in southern Ohio. Just cold enough to need layers, but warm enough to still hang outside and have fun. Besides, he'd have adrenaline to warm him soon enough.

As they approached the net, Suzy and Chloe both shouted, "Clint! Whooo!" and Chloe pulled her green and yellow knit cap off her head and waved it around.

"Come on, you show-off! We need a performance! You're an Avenger now, we expect something kick-ass!" Chloe hollered.

Clint forced himself to let the Avenger comment blow away in the wind and focused on her pure eagerness - she was pretty good at the wire after a few Thanksgivings, but she always had one drunken confession night a year and would explain how much she loved watching Clint and Suzy work it together. She'd been coming for four years and he liked her sharp wit and strong hands. He'd con her into a massage later as payment for the impromptu show he and Suzy were about to put on.

He decided that it wasn't too cold to strip off his sweatshirt entirely, so he peeled it off and threw it on the ground near the ladder as he positioned Phil safely a few feet from the net.

"You do this every year?" Phil asked as Clint headed for the ladder.

Clint heard the hesitation in his voice and winked at him. "Yep. Every year. Watch and learn, boss."

He jogged over and started climbing the ladder. Suzy was already waiting at the top and she grabbed his hand and pulled him up at the final rung. She didn't let go of his hand right away, and her soft brown eyes shimmered as she pulled him close on the tiny platform.

"You up for this?" she asked.

He nodded and put his arm around her waist, and she adjusted against his side. He used to train with her when she didn't have a usual partner, and he remembered the bright confidence she always had in her body that was tempered by the need to get things right every single night. He’d trained with her before he got his own act, when he was just a sideshow hitting targets for bets and learning what he could do with a bow. She showed him balance and patience and how to settle into the wire and use it instead of letting it instill fear and fighting against it, and he applied that to his bow

She gave his waist a squeeze and nodded, glancing down at his feet. He was wearing blue Chuck Taylors, and she was wearing plain white Keds.

"Did you bring shoes?" he asked as they stood up again.

"Yeah. I have a pair for you, too. I figure right now we'll just do a quick walk to test the wire and show off a little for your boyfriend. Wouldn't want to injure those valuable feet," she replied with a wink.

Valuable feet. His body was valuable as an Avenger, sure, but Clint? He was costly, and he knew it. He was an Avenger, and that’s what his friends wanted to hear and what they were seeing, but they didn’t know the price. He wouldn’t tell them, either. That was the only way he was going to get through this weekend. He’d take what he could get from them without having to give anything away, and that would have to be enough.

He nodded and looked back down at Phil. He was standing with his arms crossed and chin up, and Jake and Isaac were standing next to him. Christopher was coming around from the back of the shed to stand with the others and Clint shouted down, "Forgot to introduce you! Christopher, that's Phil! Phil, that's Christopher! Don't listen to him!"

Christopher would give Phil the background on all the stupid shit Clint had done as a kid, complete with judgment. He foresaw Phil standing up for him, and annoying Christopher. Probably amusing, but the drama wasn’t going to be worth it.

For now, the wire was enough. He gestured to Suzy and smirked. "Lesbians first."

She turned and smacked him on the cheek lightly, and then she laughed and stepped up to the wire, threw her hands in the air dramatically, and stepped out. Clint let her get a few feet down the wire and stepped up to the edge. He blew a controlled breath out, rolled his shoulders one more time, and stepped out after her.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to lexxorz for all the beta help and for catching so many passive verbs. Thank all of you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint walks the wire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to lexorzz for more beta awesome. Also, there are now more chapters. Probably not the most efficient writing decision, but it's just taking longer to get me to that climax scene that I know is coming! Finally, I did do a little research about walking the high wire, and got to watch some way cool you tube videos along the way. I don't profess to be even a novice about this, though, so if anyone has concrit about it, feel free to let me know. I ain't afraid of no edits. :)

Phil remembered the first time he’d watched Clint work the SHIELD range with his bow. Clint had been dressed in black cargo pants and a black SHIELD-issue t-shirt with the logo sprawled across his back; the letters had rippled and stretched as Clint drew the bow. Clint’s arms and hands and torso became a part of the bow, and multiple actions turned into a single, fluid motion when Clint knocked, raised, drew, and released before Phil could blink twice. It was a cadence born of the kind of dedication most people only read about in books, and it took Phil’s breath away, along with several other agents standing there watching with him.

Clint hadn’t even noticed.

He could spend hours at the range with an audience ebbing and flowing like a museum crowd and he’d be blind to it, coming into Phil’s office afterward and flopping down on the couch with a ”sorry. I kinda got lost on the range for a while.“ Phil would remark that he’d stopped by to watch and Clint would act surprised, like it was a weird thing for Phil to do. Phil would justify it with, “Jasper and a few others were there, too,” and Clint would snort and say, “God, you guys must’ve been really slow at work today” and then pull his book from the table in front of the couch and read until Phil was finished working. Even now, Phil would still watch whenever his free moment matched up with Clint’s range time, but he didn’t always tell Clint about it.

Now, as he zipped his windbreaker up against a soft, fall breeze in Ruby Forrester’s backyard, he would admit that he just loved watching Clint _move_. He smiled as Clint made it to the top of the ladder and was wrapped up in Suzy’s brief embrace, and he tried to hide the irrational flutter of nerves over how high the wire seemed from here.

Isaac, who had pulled on a red hooded sweatshirt since Phil had met him in front of the house, seemed to read Phil’s mind. “Twenty-five feet is pretty standard,” he said, turning to Phil.

“Twenty-five feet? Oh. The wire?” Phil asked. He wondered what beginner height was. If Clint was serious about teaching him, he hoped it was a lot lower.

“Yeah. Since Clint and Suzy don’t do this on a regular basis anymore, Christopher and Jake keep it at twenty-five. They used to do thirty-five, and Suzy got her act up to forty at one point.”

“Clint did thirty-five? Really?” Phil knew that Clint could do most of the circus stunts, but knowing and seeing was a little different. Twenty-five seemed really, really high. Sure, he’d seen Clint scale a building and jump from rooftop to rooftop, but there was a thrill here, a sense of purpose versus instinct or necessity, and it made Phil’s fingertips tingle as he watched.

Clint pulled away from Suzy and she smacked him lightly. Who knew what prompted that, but if Clint was joking around and doing stunts after his short panic attack in the bedroom, Phil thought that was a good sign.

Suzy, in her skinny jeans and pastel blue sweatshirt, walked across the wire with a flourish, and Clint followed.

Phil held his breath as Clint stepped out and was amazed at how Clint seemed to draw himself up and be taller. When Clint ducked down an alley or across a roof, he made himself compact, smaller to attract the least attention. Here, he asked for attention with his body as his voice, he drew Phil’s gaze to his graceful steps, up his torso to his outstretched arms and up again to his sparkling eyes that reflected the fun he was having in this small performance. Phil was certain that once he could breathe properly again he would have fun watching.

They both crossed over and back once, testing the strength of the wire. Once they determined it sound, Suzy leaned up and whispered something in Clint’s ear, shared a wide smile with him, and stepped out again.

When Clint worked with a weapon, his body became part of it. Here, Clint’s body was its own instrument and it became grace in motion. When Suzy was halfway across the wire this time, she spun smoothly to face Clint. She balanced patiently as he rubbed his hands on his jeans and then stepped out with confidence and crossed to her. As he got within arms’ reach, she leapt into his arms. He caught her and raised her above his head like a ballerina. He spun her on his hands, but then he faltered for half a second before he caught himself and set Suzy down on his other side, deftly releasing her into a crouch.

Phil found his heart racing as Suzy stayed down, ducked her head a little, and grinned as Clint jumped over her, landed easily, and skipped back to the platform. He bent over double laughing as Suzy came back, and he shouted down to Phil, “Ta da!” before buckling down with laughter again.

“You almost lost it, big shot!” Isaac shouted up at him.

“Horseshoes and hand-grenades, man! Horseshoes and hand grenades,” Clint hollered back, and he climbed down the ladder. He was still laughing when he got to Phil. “Whaddaya think?” He didn’t give Phil a chance to answer, though, as he turned to Chloe and said, “Fuck! I did cave a little after her jump, huh?”

“No harm, no foul,” Chloe replied as Suzy slipped into her arms.

“That was outstanding,” Phil said, walking over to inspect the set-up a little more closely.

“That all you got in you, Junior?” Christopher said to Clint, and Phil turned to watch the interchange. He could see Clint’s body tense a little at Christopher’s gruff voice.

“We’ll see,” Clint replied. “How you been Christopher? The place looks good.” He reached out to shake hands. Christopher was taller than Clint by a few inches, barrel-chested, and his chin jutted prominently from his weathered face.

“We’re okay. Ruby’s been selling her soaps and oils at a shop down in town, and we both worked the Bennett farm this summer. I’m running a show this spring down in Athens and Ruby has a couple kids paying her for lessons, so we’re keeping busy.”

There was a bit of an awkward pause, but Suzy jumped in to fill it. “What’s the show you’re directing, Christopher?”

“Into the Woods – it’s not the college troupe, though. A semi-professional crew formed up last year and they’re trying it. A couple equity kids and a good, strong crew. Should be good.”

Isaac jumped in and they talked shop for a minute before Phil made the connection. “You and Isaac both do theater now?” he asked Christopher.

Isaac nodded. “I’m actually up in New York. I do set design work. Less flashy than when I was with these bums, but the locations are better.”

“Better than Lewis, Illinois?” Clint asked. There was a pause and then everyone, even Christopher, laughed.

“Oh god, Lewis,” Suzy groaned.

“How many fights did you get in there, Clint?” Isaac asked.

“Too many,” Jake said, cuffing Clint on the back of the head.

“Hey. They were morons with a capital M. Not my fault.”

“We were always on edge ‘cause their city officials were, as Clint mentioned, morons,” Jake explained to Phil. “They brought us a good take, though, so we went every year.”

“I don’t wanna think about that place,” Suzy said. “Come on back up, Clint!”

“No net for the weekend, kids? Think you can do it?” Christopher asked, but Clint‘s only answer was a shrug and Suzy waved the question off.

After Clint and Suzy tried a hand on hand walk a while later and failed miserably enough for both of them to definitely need the net, they all migrated back up to the house for dinner. There was a bonfire set up a ways back from the deck, and Jake lit it while everyone was adding a layer of clothes and gathering their food. Twenty minutes later, Phil found himself lounging in an Adirondack chair eating the best chili he’d ever tasted and feeling the fire warm the dusk air around him. Clint handed him a beer and sat down at his feet, leaning back on Phil’s legs.

“Watching you guys on that wire is something,” Phil said after everyone had a few minutes to eat in quiet.

Suzy nudged Clint in the ribs. “Something we need to work on, huh?”

“I should get wire work into my daily routine back home, apparently. I didn’t realize you were going to want to do center-ring stuff on the first day,” Clint answered and Suzy stuck her tongue out at him, making him snort.

Chloe leaned forward with a shy smile on her face. Her dusty brown eyes sparkled and she said, “I told myself I wasn’t going to outright ask, Clint,” and Phil felt Clint’s body tense up. She added, “But what’s it like working with Tony Stark and Captain America on a daily basis?”

Phil felt Clint relax a fraction. “Stark’s an asshole with a heart of gold?” he answered.

Phil added, “Well, it’s a heart of metal, really, but we don’t need to mince words.”

“What about Captain America?” Christopher asked. “My dad used to talk about him and those Commandos of his when I was a kid.”

Clint thought a little before he answered. “He’s really a good guy. I mean, like in the movie sense of the word – he’s a good guy. He kind of sucks at cooking, though, and laundry seems completely beyond his capabilities, but he lives at the Tower, so Stark sneaks a robot in to help when he can get ahead of Steve.”

Ruby laughed. “Laundry?”

Phil laughed. “It really does stump him. He’s got the hang of iPads and the Internet and loves the advances in motorcycles and cars, but the washing machine elicits cussing like he’s still in the Army.”

“You work with them, too?” Jake asked. Apparently, Clint hadn’t given them Phil’s job description.

“In the background,” Phil explained. “I work for the agency that helped initiate the Avengers. I do a lot of coordinating.”

Clint snickered. “Wrangling, more like. Phil’s an expert wrangler. Ruby, he coulda had the lion writing reports on your performances.”

Phil playfully smacked Clint’s shoulder.

“What? It’s true.”

Conversation picked back up around Ruby and Christopher’s old animal act for a while, Isaac dug out a stereo and put on the same Janis Joplin album they’d been listening to in the car, and Phil sipped his beer as Clint debated the better between marksman acts and animal acts with Chloe. That led to describing Ruby’s old animal act to Phil, who enjoyed the way they all layered tidbits of description over each other with a simmering foundation of clear adoration for Ruby and the animals she used to work with.

“Still can’t believe you never caught us again, Clint,” Christopher said after Isaac told a funny story about Clint getting roped into being an extra in Ruby’s act (“You shoulda seen his sequence outfit!”). Christopher’s loud interjection abruptly stopped the laughter. “You’d have had the biggest solo act that outfit had ever seen if you’d gotten it together and caught up with us after that stint in the hospital.”

Clint didn’t answer, just put his beer down in the grass next to him and drew his knees up to his chest.

Barney. Phil realized then that they were talking about when Barney had stabbed Clint and left him for dead after robbing Carson. That was territory Clint never talked about, even with Phil.

“You know that, right? Carson would’ve given you a solo act, center ring before you could blink. You could’ve gone on to a bigger show,” Christopher pushed. Phil could hear the disbelief and a hint of derision in his voice, and he set his own beer down.

“Didn’t want to,” Clint said with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Christopher said, and Phil heard a hint of a slur in his speech now. “You never told us what you did do after you left. I mean,” he added, “How, exactly does someone go from a half dead circus act to a ‘weapons specialist’ with a super-secret organization and become an Avenger?”

“Hey Christopher, how ‘bout you stop being an asshole,” Isaac said, like he was trying to joke the conversation away. Clint just sat very, very still.

“No, really. Did you join the Army?” Christopher pushed.

Clint shook his head, no, and he seemed to shrink a little.

“Well, I figure if you _didn’t_ join the Army, but you _did_ end up catching the attention of a big-shot government agency, you musta been up to no good. That it? They catch you doing something wrong? ‘Cause they sure as shit didn’t just happen upon you in an alleyway using that bow you love.”

“Christopher,” Ruby said, “Stop.”

“Hey,” Phil said, leaning forward. “He caught our attention because he’s talented. Talented,” he said, and caught himself shaking his head in disbelief, “Talented doesn’t begin to describe him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Christopher said, “But how did you spot his talent? Seriously. He wasn’t shooting for any act, or we woulda heard about it. He wasn’t in the Army, so where was he shooting?”

“Everywhere,” Clint said quietly.

“Clint,” Suzy said, reaching over to brush Clint’s arm. “You don’t have to explain.”

Clint shrugged her hand off his arm. “But you want me to, don’t you? You’ve all been nice enough not to ask all these years, but you want to know, right? Well, fuck you,” he snarled at Christopher, picking up steam. “Fuck you. You thought I shoulda caught up to you guys? Yeah? Well how the fuck was I supposed to do that? No one thought they might wanna leave me a little cash to help me after I got out? A train ticket? No? So how the hell was a seventeen year-old kid supposed to scrape the money up to go find the outfit that left him behind? How the fuck was I supposed to eat?”

Clint climbed to his feet and stepped away from the fire, looking back at the high wire. “The cops wanted to throw me back in the foster system so I ran. I didn’t know where you guys were. I didn’t have any money. No birth certificate or anything!” He turned and shouted at Christopher. “What the hell do you think I did? I hadn’t been to school since the sixth grade! The only thing I was good at was knives and guns and archery. How do you make money doing that? Guess!”

Phil moved to Clint’s side and found Jake there, too.

“Clint,” Jake said, his voice low and steady.

“Guess!” Clint shouted again.

Christopher was standing, too, and his face was fixed in a stony frown.

Ruby slowly stood from where she’d been sitting next to Christopher. “Clint. No one blames you for what you had to do to survive. It doesn’t change who you are.”

“You have no fucking clue who I am,” Clint said. Ruby flinched and Clint sounded exhausted. He looked around the fire and shook his head. “I’m going to bed.” He stormed back to the house and let the screen door slam behind him.

Phil waited until Clint was inside and then stepped over to Christopher. Jake stayed near his elbow, but Ruby stepped aside. “I know him,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I know what he’s been through to get here and I know how good a person he is, even if he doesn’t believe it anymore. So if you do anything to make him question that again?” he looked around at Ruby and the others. “We’re leaving. If you make him feel worse than he already feels? We’re going home. He doesn’t need that, and he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t. Deserve. It. Understand?”

Christopher narrowed his eyes but nodded and Phil stepped away.

“Goodnight. I’m sure everything will be calmer in the morning.” He picked up his beer bottle and Clint’s as well, and headed inside. He made his way to their bedroom and shut the door behind him. He blew out a frustrated sigh when he saw Clint on the floor, wedged between the bed and the far wall, his hands wrapped around his knees in a tight hug. Phil sat down against the wall at the end of the bed, giving Clint a few feet of space.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Clint said. He didn’t meet Phil’s gaze.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine. I don’t blame you. I did warn Christopher to leave you alone about it, just so you know.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

They sat in silence. Eventually, Phil stood and changed into his sleep pants and an “I heart Stark Industries” t-shirt before heading down the hallway to brush his teeth and wash his face. He was going to smell like smoke all night, but he didn’t feel like taking a shower. When he got back to the room, Clint had changed clothes and was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I can’t sleep here,” he said and looked up at Phil.

“Clint.”

“No. I slept with you at your place because, well. I can’t here.”

“It’s okay if you wake me up, you know? I’m not going to die without a good night’s sleep.”

Clint just glared. Phil sighed and sat down next to him. “Let’s try it tonight, okay? Just tonight. If it doesn’t work we’ll talk to Ruby about another arrangement tomorrow. There’s only one couch, after all, and you said Jake claims it.”

“I can just sleep in the car.”

“What?”

“I’ve done it before and it’s not so bad.”

Phil resolutely shoved that tidbit of information to the back of his mind for later. “Clint. No.” Phil pressed himself to Clint’s side. “Try it here tonight.”

Clint leaned his head on Phil’s shoulder but didn’t say anything.

“Tonight,” Phil repeated.

“Okay. Tonight,” Clint conceded, sounding completely worn down.

They arranged themselves on the correct sides of the bed, and Phil pulled Clint across his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Clint, and Clint didn’t answer. He burrowed a little against Phil’s shoulder, but he stayed quiet, and Phil stroked his hair until he felt Clint’s breathing even out then he went to sleep, too.

The nightmare ripped both of them awake a few hours later. Clint’s scream was shattering, and his breathing was erratic and rough as Phil leaned over him, saying his name and willing his own heart to slow down. As Clint clawed his way out of the dream and sat up, shivering and sweating and panting, Phil pulled him into an embrace and held him, rubbing his back and pressing Clint’s head to his chest saying, “Listen. Breathe, Clint. Listen to my heart and breathe.”

Clint said, “Your heart. That’s your heart and it’s fine and it’s beating and fuck, Phil. Your heart’s _okay_. Mine’s fucked, Phil, but you’re really okay.”

“I am, Clint. I am. So are you. You’re okay, too.” He had to say that. He had to believe it.

“No,” Clint said, dropping to a whisper. “My heart’s been _so_ fucked.”

Clint pulled them back down to their pillows. Phil wanted to talk and convince him that he was wrong, that his heart was strong and beautiful, and that everything was getting better, but Clint turned away and Phil just watched him breathe. Sleep soon stole Phil back, and he didn’t know if Clint was taken too.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Please note that I added a trigger warning to the list. This is because I added an element to the story and changed a few things from my original outline, so I hadn't warned for this at the beginning. There is the brief discussion of the death of a child. As a parent myself, I know that this can be a HUGE turn-off for a story, so if this runs you away from this story, I apologize and understand. It is, however, brief IMO.

 

The dirt beneath Clint's feet was fine, and it felt solid and reassuring as he jogged. He could hear it crunch beneath his running shoes, and he pulled a deep breath of fresh woodsy air into his lungs. It wasn't even light out yet. It was dawn, with the soft, deep blue light of night softened by the coming sun. He didn’t need a flashlight as long as he stuck to the road. The insects were whistling and the birds were chirping, and there was no highway sound, no hum of street life waking up, no neon lights competing for his attention. It was just crisp, cool air, the dirt road, the animals, and him. It had been months since he'd been away from the city and by himself.

He swung his arms in big circles as the thought of the city intruded. Psych appointments every other day, range schedules to keep up with, sparring schedules, team meetings, and the actual physical energy it took to avoid issues with Phil, to deal with the panic attacks that still ambushed him once a week or so. All of these things were gone here, cast aside for a few days of quiet and no obligations.

It should've been awesome.

Instead here he was, awake hours after the nightmare that had torn him and Phil from sleep (and probably everyone else in the house if he thought about it, which he didn’t want to do). He hadn't gone back to sleep. He never could. Nightmares were his alarm clock these days, and with them came the problem of avoiding thoughts of blood and ice-blue and blinding orders from an insidious god. Insomnia seemed the only solution.

He walked down the road, heading for the intersection that would lead him to one of the many caves and hiking trails near Ruby's house. He breathed the dawn air and it smelled moist and heavy with competing scents from wildflowers, foliage, and dirt. There wasn't anyone around this early and it might have even been illegal for him to head down the trail toward Ash Cave, but he loved that place. He'd planned on waiting until Isaac was up to go running today, and that would have been after the park was open to the public, but he couldn't wait. He figured if he got caught, he was pretty good at talking his way out of that sort of thing.

He let the woods around him fill his senses as he merged onto the paved trail leading to the cave. Ash Cave was a recess cave, a gouge in the side of the cliff creating a massive overhang effect. Clint came into sight of it from the trail and blew a breath out at the sight. Empty and looming, the cave had points where it was one hundred feet deep from the open forest, its roof rising fifty or sixty feet in the air. It always made Clint consider what a church would be if God himself created it. He stood there now, at the front end of the cave, and gazed at the enormous outcropping, at the overhang that seemed to stretch a mile, at the dirt, at the natural benches cut into the recessed rock.

He wandered over, scuffed his feet in the dirt, and sat down on one of the rock benches. After a few minutes of just staring at the woods around him, absently tracing patterns in the dirt with his shoe, and trying not to think about anything at all, he heard someone coming down the trail toward the cave. He didn’t move; he figured if he was going to get kicked out he’d argue that it was daylight and he wasn’t hurting anything.

He looked up as the person came into view, and then he leaned back against the cave wall as Isaac approached with a sad sort of smile on his face. He looked tired, and the lines that had come with fifty were standing out in the morning light.

“Jake heard you leave the house. I thought you might tolerate some company,” he said as he joined Clint on the rock.

“It’s fine,” Clint answered softly. They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching as the rising sun slowly filled the area in front of the cave with light. It felt comfortingly familiar, sitting here with Isaac, like they used to do at the circus when Isaac would find him after a fight, offer him an icepack or a cold drink, and let him vent if he needed it. Isaac’s lilting voice would calm him, ease him into explaining why he went off like he did, help him work through the anger that would inevitably still simmer after a fight.

Sometimes, when Clint was a teenager, he would imagine Isaac talking to him when he was jerking off or thinking about sex. The quiet confidence Isaac always seemed to have was a turn-on to Clint, and the way he’d talk Clint down from a fight translated into fantasies about Isaac’s hand on him in the dark, whispering adoration and making him feel like the center of his world. It never happened, of course, but Clint had long associated Isaac’s voice with want and contentment.

“There’s something you should know about when we left you in the hospital,” Isaac said, his voice a little rougher than usual. “Ruby’s been afraid to ask you about it, afraid to tell you what happened.”

Clint swallowed down a memory of that stale, empty hospital room, of the door shutting Ruby when she left him lying there in pain. “We don’t have to talk about it, Isaac. It’s over. Done. I didn’t mean to bring it up last night. Didn’t mean to bring it up ever.” He didn’t. He’d really forgiven all of them the best he could. He loved them and didn’t mean to dredge this shit up again. Fucking Christopher, though.

Isaac cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Look, in the end it was our fault.” Clint started to protest, but Isaac put his hand firmly on Clint’s arm to quiet him. “It was, but you need to know that we did come back for you.”

The fresh air suddenly seemed to disappear and Clint choked on his words for a second. “What? You didn’t. They were getting ready to discharge me into the police’s care and you didn’t come back.”

Isaac shook his head. “We didn’t come back in time, but we did come back. I did.”

Clint just stared. The anger he’d let loose last night by the fire was only a spark of what raged when he let himself think about those days.

“We got back to Carson’s after we saw you in the hospital and Ruby told you to catch up. I asked how she thought you could do that, and we both realized we hadn’t left you any way. You were right about that. You know Carson, though, he went where his whim took him and none of us knew that day where we were going to go set up next. We thought we had a couple days to figure it out, but when we got back to the lot that night, the police were crawling all over the place thanks to Trick and Duquesne stabbing you.”

Isaac’s voice hitched on the words and he stopped and took a deep breath.

“Carson had us do an emergency pack up that afternoon when the cops left for a while. You remember the drill?”

Clint did. Sometimes, towns that would suddenly decide the circus wasn’t welcome, and they had an emergency tear-down routine that didn’t allow for drying things out, settling the animals completely, things like that. They worried about it when they got to the next town. They could bolt from a field in about three hours flat if they needed to.

“We packed up, but I sent Ruby to go tell Carson we needed to run back to the city to make sure you knew how to catch us. Carson wouldn’t listen. Said the cops would be keeping an eye on you and would probably make him give you up to the foster system anyway, that it was probably best for you.”

“Ruby knew what I thought of the foster system,” Clint said, glaring at Isaac.

“And she fought them.”

“Them?”

Isaac sighed. “Christopher thought it was best for you, too.”

“Oh well, fuck Christopher,” Clint spat.

“He thought it was best. He was looking out for you, Clint.”

“He never wanted kids on the lot,” Clint said.

“True enough. But that was – you know why he didn’t, Clint. Cut him a little slack.” Isaac’s eyes were sad, his voice heavy.

Clint stood and walked out to the front of the cave with Isaac following.

“So? You guys had to leave, and the boss and Christopher wanted to leave me behind.” Clint said, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

Isaac moved close to Clint, close enough so Clint could lean into him, and he wanted to, he really did, but he held himself back.

“Carson had us go south, way south – we were headed to St. Louis - and when I realized where we were going, I knew we had to get back to you or you’d never find us. So Ruby and Suzy covered for me and I grabbed a bus. I was coming for you, Clint. I was. You were _gone_ , though. They said you snuck out and you were in rough shape, but you were gone. I looked around the city as best I could, but I couldn’t find you.” He laid a hand on Clint’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

Clint turned and saw tears in Isaac’s eyes, making the green sparkle even more, and he couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “You came looking for me? My own fucking fear of the system made me miss you. Fuck.” His whole life, changed because he had been scared of what might have come.

Isaac pulled him into a tight hug. “You were a good kid who deserved better, Clint. You still are. No matter what happened.”

Clint shuddered against Isaac and buried his head in his shoulder and didn’t answer. He just wrapped his arms around him and held as tight as he could. After a minute, he pulled back. “You knew I’d been up to no good,” he said.

Isaac smiled sadly. “I knew you’d survived, and I knew you wouldn’t have been able to join the Army or anything legit. I knew you didn’t have schooling or proper ID. So yeah, I’d guessed what you’d done to survive. I never talked to the others about it, though. Wasn’t any of our business. Didn’t change anything.”

“I was a killer-for-hire, Isaac, I’d say it changed something.”

Isaac pulled Clint back to the bench and leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. “Clint, when you showed up that first Thanksgiving, you looked like you couldn’t believe we _wanted_ you around. You told us where you’d ended up, how you were working for the government and doing good things – when you said that you actually sounded _proud_ of yourself, which you never did even when you were a headliner for Carson. Why would we care what you had to do to keep yourself fed in between?” He pulled Clint’s hand into his own and squeezed tight. “You’d found your way back to us and you were proud of work you were doing. Jake and I talked later and agreed that it was one of the best weekends we’d ever had in our lives, just getting to see you again. How you survived in between didn’t change anything important. We could all see that.”

Clint stared at Isaac’s hand warm in his own. He wondered what Isaac would see now, if he looked him in the eye.

Clint could admit to himself that he was afraid to find out.

 

* * *

 

Phil woke with a start, and he sat up quickly and scanned the room. It was quiet, and the air had that grainy smell of old furniture and quilts. The room was empty. Clint was gone. Phil took a quick inventory and saw that Clint’s running shoes were missing, his pajamas we bundled on the floor next to his side of the bed, and his phone was gone from the nightstand. Phil rubbed his hand through his hair and down his face before he looked at the clock on his own phone. It was only six and the light outside was soft and new.

He stood and stretched, pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans, and made his way downstairs. The stairs were creaky, but Phil had noted some of the spots last night and now stepped to avoid them. Unless Jake was a light sleeper, he should still be okay. Phil needn’t have worried, though, because when he went into the kitchen to try and figure out the coffee maker, Jake was there, already holding a cup.

“Morning,” Jake said, and offered Phil a small salute with his cup.

“Good morning,” Phil returned.

“Grab a cup and head out to the deck if you want a nice morning,” Jake said with a smile.

Phil did, and Jake joined him. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the rising sun burn off some of the mist gathered in the back yard.

“Sorry about last night,” Jake said, breaking the silence as Phil finished his coffee. “Chris and Clint have always been like oil and water.”

“I can see that. It’s okay, though. Not your fault.”

“Still. An old man with a grudge isn’t what you or Clint need right now.”

“A grudge?” Phil leaned forward. Someone holding a grudge against Clint seemed weird to Phil. Clint didn’t seem like one to inspire grudges.

Jake shrugged and looked out toward the creek at the back of the land. “Clint was skittish of Chris since the first day they met. None of us could figure out why. Chris could be stern with the kids on the lot, and he didn’t really have an interest in ‘em, but he wasn’t mean ‘cept when he was drunk, and that didn’t happen very often. Clint just never liked him.”

“Why did Christopher care what a ten year-old kid thought of him?”

“Oh, I suppose he wouldn’t have, but Clint took a shine to Ruby right off, all the kids did, really. So Clint would hang around Ruby and Chris’s place but get all pissy-teenager when Chris was around. He would never say why, but it aggravated Chris and Chris don’t have much patience when he’s aggravated. It was a cycle – they just pissed each other off.” He took a deep breath and met Phil’s gaze. “Seems like it’s not gonna change.”

“Seemed pretty deliberate last night,” Phil said, standing up to go get more coffee. “Can I get you another cup?”

Jake nodded. “Sure, thanks.”

Phil refilled both cups and he and Jake sat quietly again. As the sky lightened, Suzy and Chloe joined them on the deck with coffee, and soon Clint and Isaac loped up from the front of the house. Phil ran his eyes down Clint’s body and back to his face. Their eyes met and Clint smiled, the reassurance sending a ripple of relief through Phil’s chest. He was okay. They’d talk later.

“You guys caffeinating Phil enough to get him ready to try the wire?” Clint said, resting his hands on Phil’s shoulders and leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

Suzy, dressed in green sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt, set her coffee down on the deck and clapped. “Lesson morning! I love lesson mornings!”

Chloe, whose clothes matched her girlfriend’s to a silly degree, leaned over and rested her hand on Phil’s arm. “Don’t worry. They’re good teachers. I only broke my wrist the first time.”

Clint huffed. “You broke your wrist because you tripped and fell off the ladder getting down. Don’t tell stories.”

“I’ll get the liability waiver,” Ruby called from the door to the kitchen.

“She’s kidding, Phil. No waiver,” Clint said, glaring at Ruby. She was dressed for the day in jeans and a green cable knit sweater, and her greying hair was braided down the center of her back. Phil saw Christopher puttering in the kitchen behind her.

“Fine, no waiver,” Ruby answered. “Why don’t you kids show him the basics while us old farts get breakfast ready. You can try him on the actual line after we eat.”

Chloe and Suzy jumped from the deck to the back yard in one leap, and Suzy called, “Come on, Phil. We’ll teach you the best party trick ever!”

He looked at Clint, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Go on,” Clint said, taking Phil’s cup from his hands. “Suzy’s real good at showing the basics on the ground. I’ll go up with you later, after I help Ruby with breakfast.”

“Are you making biscuits?” Phil asked, because Clint’s biscuits were melt-in-your-mouth goodness. He hadn’t had them in months.

Clint winked. “Sure, I’ll whip some up.”

Half an hour later, Phil’s legs were shaking from exertion and Suzy was coaching him as he tried not to feel silly about barely being able to walk a chalk line on the grass.

“Bend your knees a little, Phil. Come on. You gotta have a little give or you’ll topple right away,” Chloe called as he put one foot carefully in front of the other. Isaac walked up and Phil tried not to be distracted by his smile and short laugh as he took in Phil’s predicament. Clint definitely had good taste in his childhood crushes. Phil kept his focus, though, and finally made it across the chalk line without faltering.

“Good! That’s great! Isaac,” Suzy said, “Did you set up the short line yet?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “Set up round on the side yard. Ready when you are.”

“What do you think, Phil? We set up a short line only a foot from the ground. Ready to try it?” Suzy said, sliding her arm under his and crooking it in her elbow. She leaned into his side comfortably, and Phil had a moment of missing his younger sister who lived in Illinois.

“Sure, I guess?” Phil answered, but Isaac cut in.

“Breakfast first,” he said. “Don’t want the eggs to get cold.”

An hour and about three too many of Clint’s biscuits later and Phil was trying his first step onto the short line. Even though it was only a foot off the ground, his heart was still racing. Clint was showing him how to do the first step.

“It’s the most important,” he coached, his eyes meeting Phil’s. “If you stick the first step then your balance is set. You end up tipping on the first step and you’re pretty much done.” He explained how it was the transfer of weight in a fluid motion that was the most important bit. The smooth transition from the platform to the wire was all in the shift of weight.

Phil tried to imitate what Clint was saying and what Suzy had shown him on the ground, and he stepped out as confidently as he could. He teetered anyway, and ended up tripping off the line without even getting his second foot down. Clint just smiled and said, “Try again. This time think of your hips and keeping them moving evenly.”

It was five more tries, but finally, Phil made the first step, and with Clint, Suzy, and Chloe shouting out cheers, he took more steps and frantically crossed the wire, showing nothing close to grace. But he made it. He grinned at Clint, whose eyes were dancing with delight and pride. In that moment, the past few months disappeared and their world was this yard backed up to small mountains, a creek, a wire, and laughing friends, and Phil loose and relaxed enough to think for a second that things might be getting better for them, that he and Clint would be okay.

An hour later, Phil declared break time. They said he’d be ready for the high wire by tomorrow if he kept practicing, but his legs were complaining at the moment. Chloe grabbed Clint’s arm and said, “Hey, I found a new access point to that small cave opposite Ash. Wanna see?”

“Chloe, you’re not supposed to go into unreported caves, you know that!” Suzy said.

Christopher, who was working on building another bonfire stack for the evening, said, “Oh, the little one down the road about a mile you found last year?” Chloe nodded and Christopher looked at Suzy. “That one’s been reported now. It’s official. You can go in. Just not a lot of folks know about it, which is nice.”

“You want to come?” Clint said to Phil.

He did, but he also wanted Clint to get time with his friends alone this weekend, so he said, “Maybe later? I’m going to help Ruby with this afternoon’s meal and put my feet up. I’m kinda tired from my new talent.”

Clint smiled Phil’s favorite crooked smile and said, “Talent, eh? Maybe. We’ll see tomorrow.” He leaned in and gave Phil a quick kiss, just a brush of their lips, and said, “We won’t be gone long.”

Phil waved and headed inside.

Ruby put him to work peeling potatoes, and then he helped throw together a salad and some glazed carrots. “We don’t do a whole big thing,” Ruby told him. “Just the turkey and a few fixings.”

That’s when Phil realized he didn’t smell turkey in the oven.

“Turkey?” he asked, pointing at the oven.

Ruby laughed. “Christopher grills ours. Been doing it that way a few years now, and it’s really good.”

Phil finally gathered another cup of coffee and made his way to the front sitting room where he’d spotted a wing back chair earlier that he wanted to try. He sank into it with a sigh and put his achy feet up on the footrest. He looked around and found a table with a coaster next to the chair. He set his coffee down and noticed a picture that he hadn’t seen before. He picked it up just as Ruby came in to join him. He looked up when he realized what he was looking at and she was smiling at him, but her eyes were filled with grief.

“That’s Christopher and I with our son, Luke,” she said, coming over to run her fingers over the picture. Phil looked back down and saw Ruby and Christopher when they couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. Christopher’s face was filled with laughter and his eyes had a glint that even the old, faded photo couldn’t dim. He had a young boy with tousled black hair and big, round eyes on his shoulders, and all three of them were laughing.

Ruby sat down on the footstool. “Eleven years before Clint and Barney came to the circus, me and Chris were teenagers in a wild world. I got pregnant when I was seventeen and Christopher was twenty, and we had a baby boy. His name was Luke.” She stopped for a moment and got a faraway look in her eyes. “When Luke was nine, he was on the lot trying to help with tear-down and there was an accident with the big top. He died beneath a pile of poles and planks before an ambulance could even get there.”

She was quiet, and Phil offered a soft, “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what to say, but he realized Clint was just one year younger than Christopher’s son.

She looked up and smiled. “Thank you. It was a long time ago, and I’ve known and helped a lot of kids since then – a few I consider my family. Chris told me I tried to fill Luke’s place by trying to take care of all the other young kids who wandered onto Carson’s lot. He’s probably right.”

“I know I’m grateful that you did, for Clint. He is, too,” Phil said.

Ruby sighed. “You know, Clint and his brother showed up at Carson’s with chips on their shoulders. Both of them. Barney never did take too much to me trying to take care of them, but he was fourteen and had seen too much from adults to really trust us.”

“Clint trusted you,” Phil said with a smile.

She looked away quickly and Phil realized she had tears in her eyes. She rubbed them away and looked back at Phil. “Not at first. He’d seen too much, too. He flinched every time Christopher spoke two words to him. Outright flinched. He didn’t talk to anyone for the first two months. Isaac managed to get him to talk by letting him help with the hammering on the sets, and I got him to smile and say ‘yes, please’ when I asked if he wanted to help me feed my lions. He took some work.”

Phil thought of the photographs upstairs. “He must’ve gotten comfortable. I love the photo of him you have upstairs.”

“He got comfortable with me,” Ruby agreed. “That photo is one of my favorites. Did you see this one?” she asked, and she stood and went over to the tall dresser she had near the front door and grabbed a frame.

Phil laughed when he saw it. It was Clint, and he was standing up in the saddle of a dark brown horse, holding his bow and laughing. He wasn’t in costume, just wore jeans and white tennis shoes and a dark blue tight-fitting t-shirt. His blond hair was shaggy and he was much thinner than Phil had ever seen him, still a teenager. “He looks so happy,” Phil said, looking up at Ruby.

She nodded. “If you met Clint after he left the circus, and if he was doing what he said last night, I bet he wasn’t all that happy then,” she said gently. Her eyes were soft and Phil could see why kids and others would trust this woman easily. “He wasn’t happy when he left, either, but that wasn’t too unusual. Most of us in that life just stole moments of happiness when we could. He had a rough beginning and a horrible ending to that part of his life, but he did steal some moments with us. I knew he was a good kid when I saw him smile like that,” and she nodded at the picture.

Phil’s breath deserted him for a moment as he remembered Clint, bloody and exhausted in SHIELD’s holding cell, but giving Phil a hesitant smile when Phil said they’d drop his charges and train him to do good works with his weapon and as an agent, and he nodded back. “Yeah, when he could smile despite the horrible storm his life had become when I found him, I could tell he was worth taking a risk on. He just jumped in and did his best, regardless of how badly he hated what he’d become. He wanted to change, you know?”

“He didn’t _change_ ,” Ruby said, standing and heading back for the kitchen. “You helped him find himself again.” She stopped in the doorway. “I think that’s Clint. He’s a good person, but he forgets that sometimes because his life gets so bad around him. Good thing he’s got someone like you to remind him,” she said.

Phil nodded. “Good thing he had you guys when he was a kid.”

She nodded with a wink, and then she disappeared down the hallway.

Phil sat for another minute, considering her words, and he realized that in the wake of Loki, he hadn’t really been doing much reassuring for Clint. He couldn’t, to be fair, as he’d tried to work himself back to physical condition and get through his own trauma from the encounter. And then Clint had put such distance between them, he couldn’t remind him at all.

Now, though, here where they could be close again, and surrounded by people who believed the same as Phil, he could.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally - the almost-end of the story (and the end posted tonight as well)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo. It's been months and months since I posted a chapter to this piece. I apologize - I should have at least put it on hiatus. I kept thinking I could finish it, but writer's block and other RL things just kept getting in the way and it got harder and harder to come back to. HOWEVER! I got inspired again (this story means a great deal to me) and worked to finish it for you. I appreciate everyone who read it, and I apologize to those of you who picked it up without realizing it cut off. I hope if you give it another chance, you'll enjoy it. I enjoyed writing it!

The entrance to the cave down the road was small and oval shaped, a key hole-like opening pressed into the side of the tree-covered hill. Suzy crawled through first, and when she had to shimmy to get through, Clint shook his head. “No way I’m fitting in there,” he said, crossing his arms.

Chloe wiped her own strong hands on her faded black jeans and cocked her head. “If I can get through, you can, short-stuff.”

“Two inches,” Clint countered with a glare. “You’ve got two inches on me is all. Besides, I’m definitely wider than you. Compared to you, I’m a fire-plug.” It was true, and Clint adored Chloe’s height and graceful limbs. When she stood next to Suzy, who was shorter than Clint, the two women were a picture of counterpoint.

Chloe just huffed, and Suzy called from the cave, “Come on, you wussies. Get in here!”

Clint hunkered down to peer through the hole. He threw a mock glare over his shoulder at Chloe and then wiggled his way through. His jeans were going to need a washing, that’s for sure. A few grunts and one good thrust later, he practically popped into the cave. He crawled a few feet toward Suzy’s headlamp, and was finally able to stand up next to her. He heard Chloe scuffling her way in behind him.

It was dark, but each of them had a headlamp, and it was cool, but not as cold as it was outside. Clint unzipped his hoodie and adjusted his thin gloves. “Lead on,” he said to Suzy with a wave of his hand and a grin, and she shrugged her shoulders excitedly and gave a soft “do-do-dee-doo” imitation of a battle trumpet before she turned and headed down the small passageway they were in.

Clint followed, and Chloe was behind him, when they emerged into a bigger chamber. It smelled cleaner, and Clint could hear the drip-drip of water from the stalactites hanging from the ceiling. He shone his light toward the sound, and there were probably fifty of the stone spears poking down toward him. As he was looking, Chloe poked him playfully in the side. He startled and spun, and when she burst into laughter, so did he.

“You two are gonna make all the cave crickets scurry away with all that noise,” Suzy said, slapping Clint lightly on the arm.

“Your girlfriend startles me and I’m the one who gets slapped?” Clint said, putting his hands on his hips. “I see how it is.”

“She knows where her bread is buttered,” Chloe said.

“Where her bed is buttered, you mean?” Clint replied, waggling his eyebrows. Chloe and Suzy slapped him at the same time. “Ow, okay, okay.” His smile felt loose, easy in a way it hadn’t been for a while. The darkness seemed to offer him some shelter, some safety to be loose and affectionate again. It felt like he had let a breath out he’d been holding.

“Look at this,” Suzy said, pulling Clint’s elbow, and he followed as she shone her hand-held flashlight at a spot on a rock a few feet away. There was a small, pale lizard sitting on the rock, and it didn’t move when Clint and Suzy approached. Clint could see its shiny black eyes glitter in the beam of light.

They poked around the chamber for a few more minutes and then headed down an adjoining passageway a few feet, and the sulfuric smell got stronger as they went. When the passage opened into another room, it was smaller, but there was a small stream running along the side. Clint knelt next to it and shone his light in, wondering if anything was living in the dark water. He got a little lost staring at it, thinking of how it seemed so peaceful, here, this darkness and cloying air and narrowed world.

This darkness was safe and natural.

Suzy put her hand gently on his shoulder and he kept watching the water for a minute before standing. She didn’t move her hand away, and he took it in his, rubbing his thumb along her cool skin. She pulled him away from the stream and they walked hand-in-hand to the next passage before separating and ducking down a much smaller path.

Two hours later, they’d explored all six of the accessible cave chambers and passages, and they headed back to the surface. Clint pulled the drier air into his lungs in a mouthful, and undid his headlamp, tucking it into his hoodie pocket. “Let’s go see if Phil’s survived Ruby’s meal prep,” he said, swinging his arms in a circle, enjoying the space and freedom of movement after the cave. Chloe and Suzy gave each other a knowing look, and they each grabbed one of Clint’s hands as they walked down the road back to Ruby’s house.

He tried not to grip them too tightly.

Dinner was almost ready when they got back. Clint took a quick shower and put on clean jeans and a new red flannel shirt before heading downstairs. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Christopher again, but his hike with Suzy and Chloe had reassured him, and he’d face Christopher again. He didn’t have to make a scene.

Ruby was waiting for him with a carving knife and he took it and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she could get away. “Just because I threw knives in my act, doesn’t mean I can actually carve with them, you know,” he said.

She frowned at him and said, “Shoo. You’ve been playing around in the dark for two hours. You can stand to help a little.”

It was an old exchange, one they had a variation of every year since he started coming. “What did you guys do before I started showing up, huh?” he asked playfully. He stepped to the counter where the turkey had been placed.

“Pizza,” Isaac offered as he came into the kitchen to check Clint’s progress.

Before long they were all sitting at the table passing food around. Phil sat close to Clint, letting their shoulders touch when he could. Conversation flowed easily, and toward the end of the meal, Clint even found himself telling a story about Tony and Bruce trying a cooking experiment in their lab. He felt good telling it, felt warm thinking of his teammates, and even had a surprising pang of missing them.

Jake laughed at the story, loud and warm. “I’d like to meet that idiot Stark,” he said, shaking his head.

Clint nodded. “You’d love him, and Christopher would hate him,” he said, and when the table quieted a bit. He wondered if he’d said too much. He apparently couldn’t do anything right around Christopher this weekend.

“Not sure how you’d know anything about who I’d like or not, after all these years,” Christopher murmured.

“Chris,” Ruby said, quietly fierce. “Leave it alone.”

“No,” Christopher said, shoving his empty plate away from him and leaning back in his chair. “I’ve never touched him, never done a thing to him and he still can’t come here and try and get along with me in my own house.” He glared at Clint. “What’d I ever do to you, Clint? Huh? Ever?”

And with that, Clint was done with it. He was done sitting by quietly angry, and the weekend was definitely showing him that he was a different person now, after Loki. He and Christopher hadn’t fought like this in years.

Phil started to say something, but Clint cut him off. This fight was so far out of Phil’s domain it was crazy that he would be able to do or say anything to help. This was his problem and he suddenly felt like he should’ve dealt with it years ago. “No, Phil. He’s right.”

Clint stood up and stepped back from the table, crossing his arms. He stared at the floor for a moment, wondering if this was worth anything at all. He’d _always_ known why he hated Christopher, but he’d never said it out loud to anyone, not even Ruby when she’d try and talk him down after their fights. God knew she’d asked him enough times over the years why her husband rubbed him the wrong way.

He looked up at Christopher and tried to muster some volume in his voice. It only partly worked. His voice sounded thin and weak in his own ears. “You always reminded me of my dad,” he said, trying to meet Christopher’s eye. “You looked like him when you were younger, you’re his size, and you were always yelling at us kids when me and Barney first showed up. I thought you sounded like him when you yelled.” He paused and shrugged stiffly. “I don’t know if that’s true, really, but it stuck. You hated us kids and you sounded like my asshole dad, and then we got off on the wrong foot and all you could ever do was find my faults, which I knew well enough without your help.” He paused. “I still do, believe me.”

The table was quiet, and Clint and Christopher stared at each other for a beat before Clint shrugged and backed away.

He was too tired for this shit.

***

Phil watched Clint leave the room and he looked back at Christopher, who was staring at Clint’s retreat.

Suzy was the first to speak. “Well, that explains a hell of a lot.”

Ruby stood and looked at Phil and then at her husband and back to Phil. “Can I talk to him for a minute? Or do you want me to wait?”

Phil was grateful for the question, but he knew he’d stumbled into a stew of issues for Clint by coming along this weekend. He didn’t want to complicate things, and this was family territory, not boyfriend territory. “You go ahead,” he said. “Tell him I’ll come find him in our room when you’re done.”

She nodded and retreated, and Phil took a deep breath and looked over at Christopher, who was standing up from the table. He brushed at his green flannel shirt as if he were trying to flatten it, and then he looked over at Jake.

“Do I really do that to him?” he asked, and Phil could hear the plea in his voice. It made him look at Christopher again, more closely. He was like the father who couldn’t relate to his son, and Phil supposed it would fit.

Jake wiped his mouth and looked down at his plate for a moment before meeting Christopher’s eyes with a small nod. “Yeah. I mean, he’s never really measured up to you.” He looked over at Suzy and added, “You don’t give her half the grief you give Clint. I guess I can see how it might’ve looked to him.”

Isaac sighed and said, “Clint came to us thinking he wasn’t good for much, Chris. His perspective’s always been a little off kilter.”

Christopher nodded, a grim look on his face, and picked up his plate. “I’ll meet you all out back later,” he said, and left the dining room.

After a moment, Chloe said, “It’s not always this dramatic,” and gave Phil a wink.

Phil smiled, and didn’t think it was divulging too much when he answered, “Everything’s a little dramatic with Clint right now.”

Isaac and Jake both fixed Phil with a strange look, and then Isaac nodded. His green eyes were dark and narrowed, and he looked to Phil like someone who was looking for a mistake.

“Why is that, exactly?” he asked quietly.

Phil leaned back in his chair and bit his lip. It wasn’t his place to tell. This was Clint’s story. But when he looked up at Isaac and over to Jake, to Suzy, to Chloe, he saw concern and love of a sort he never really knew anyone else except Natasha to have for Clint. It wasn’t so much that he thought he and Natasha were the first people to ever love Clint - the ghost of Barney Barton lingered – but he’d never realized there was a whole group of people like this for Clint.

This was Clint’s family, after all.

He took a sip of his coffee and looked up at Isaac. His eyes were filled with worry and compassion, and Phil felt something settle in his chest when he started to speak. “I won’t tell you his part of the story. That’s not mine to tell. Mine is…” he took a deep breath, and had to try again. “Mine is . . . less complicated, but it’s part of his. When New York City was attacked, you all saw footage of Clint fighting the aliens, right?”

Suzy nodded. “I was scared to death for him. I didn’t know he was that…” she trailed off.

“Prominent,” Jake finished for her. He was watching Phil very, very carefully, and Phil was reminded of a bodyguard watching intently for a wrong move.

“Clint’s been one of the most important field agents the US government has on its books for years. The Avengers was an obvious spot for him,” Phil said. “But you have to understand that when he was fighting and you saw him on the news, he thought I was dead.”

Jake crossed his arms, Suzy frowned and leaned her elbows on the table, Chloe sucked in a sharp breath, and Isaac steepled his fingers at his chest.

“I was hurt, badly. Our boss didn’t realize I wasn’t dead and falsely reported it to his team. They told him about me just before the fight, and he’d already been fighting on his own for days. During those days I was afraid he was lost to us. He’d been captured by the enemy.” He paused and closed his eyes against the memory of fear and loss that bubbled up at the memory of all of this. He’d been truly convinced they had lost Clint to Loki, one way or another If Loki hadn’t killed him, Phil had been terrified that SHIELD was going to have to kill him to make him stop working with Loki. It had been the worst three days of Phil’s life.

Phil felt a hand on his arm and opened his eyes. Suzy had leaned over and was gently massaging his forearm.

“You must have been terrified,” she whispered, and her eyes were wet.

He nodded. “So I thought he was lost to us, and then I was critically injured and reported dead. Clint had been recovered by a teammate after I was injured, and he fought the battle against the aliens thinking I was dead. He didn’t find out otherwise for a week after the battle.”

Phil looked down at his empty plate on the table. He didn’t blame Nick, he really didn’t. Nick was looking out for Clint as much as anything when he chose to keep Phil’s fight back to life a secret. But Clint’s face when Phil had finally seen him, his ashen, gaunt face and the bruises under his eyes, well. Phil had been sure Clint was on the edge of breaking.

He looked back at Clint’s family and met Jake’s worried gaze. “The fallout has been dramatic,” he finished with a shrug.

After a few beats, Isaac asked, “You’re recovered from your injuries?”

Phil nodded. “I don’t have quite the stamina I need to be _fully_ recovered, but yes.”

Jake fixed Phil with a glare. “And Clint? Has he recovered?” His voice was steely and sharp.

Phil didn’t answer right away. He had to consider this carefully, so he did. Finally, he looked at Jake and shook his head. “He’s still working on it.”

“That’s why he lost it when you guys got here,” Chloe said softly, and Isaac nodded.

“It’s like he’s raw right now,” Isaac said. “Like he was when he was a kid.”

“He went looking for fights back then,” Jake added, and then he smiled. “So many fights.”

Isaac spoke so quietly that Phil almost didn’t hear him.

“It’s all he knew how to do.”

Everyone was sitting quietly when Ruby came back into the room and leaned over Phil, giving him an unexpected hug. “He’s in your room,” she whispered.

Phil stood, and Ruby touched his sleeve. “We’ll clean up and get a fire going. Join us if you’d like, but if you need some time, we understand.”

Phil just nodded his thanks, and headed upstairs to check on Clint.

***

Clint felt sluggish and slow as he climbed the old, creaky stairs to his room. Each step felt like it was a few inches higher than it should be, and he moved like he was as old as the house. When he reached the top, he started toward the bedroom he and Phil were staying in, but his eye caught a glimpse of Ruby and Christopher’s room, their door slightly ajar. He could see their bed, with its antique bedposts twirling toward the ceiling and a knitted blanket draped over the end of the bed. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, and he was in their room reaching for it without realizing what he was doing.

It was a deep purple color, still vibrant even though the threads were frayed at the edges and it looked like it had traveled the world clutched in someone’s grip for years. He picked it up and remembered clutching it, pulling it over his shoulders as he sat on the rickety floor of Ruby and Chris’s trailer when he was fourteen. He pulled it to his face and rubbed his cheek on it, closed his eyes, and could smell the hay and sweat and sugary-sweet kettle corn that seemed to permeate anything a carnie owned.

“You used to huddle with that thing like it was a shield,” Ruby said from the doorway, and Clint looked up sharply, taking in her soft smile and twinkling eyes.

He looked down at the blanket in his hands and nodded. “It kind of was,” he said, and looked back up at Ruby. She moved close, pulled the blanket gently from his hands, and reached around him to drape it over his shoulders. He closed his eyes again, remembering the same movements years ago when he’d stumble into her trailer, his eye full of tears that refused to fall. He’d curl up against the trailer wall, pull his knees close to his chest, and duck his head down to shut out Barney’s harsh reprimands and Trick’s yells. He opened his eyes and grinned. “You always had the best shields.”

She laughed and pushed him so that he had to sit on the edge of the bed, and she sat down next to him. He held the blanket out and she tucked herself under his arm so she was leaning against his side, and he wrapped them both with the blanket. She let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to make anyone upset. It’s just –“ he cut himself off, not sure what to say. He didn’t really know what was causing him to confront Christopher like this, except exhaustion and his own floundering emotions that seemed to be flying maniacally around his head these days.

“Shhh,” she answered, and she rubbed a hand across his thigh protectively. “You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“To Christopher, maybe.” Clint sighed. “I know I’m not fair to him. I’ve been avoiding him my whole life.”

Ruby sat quietly for a moment and then said, “Maybe you’ve been avoiding what he stands for. It’s not the same, and now he knows that. Besides,” she added, “He’s never been particularly fair to you, either.”

Clint saw her eyes drift to a photograph framed on their dresser, a large picture of her son with both his parents, wide grins on all of their faces as they stood in front of a circus tent. “That’s not the Christopher I ever met,” he said. “I should know that enough to cut him some slack.”

Ruby leaned a little more into Clint’s side. “Loss doesn’t excuse the way he’s treated you, though. I’ve tried to tell him over the years, but back then it was too fresh, too hard.” She paused, then added, “And then it was habit for both of you.”

Clint nodded and closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and pressed his chin to his chest, stretching his shoulders. “Habits can be broken,” he whispered.

Ruby didn’t answer. They sat quietly for a few minutes, and Clint felt some of the tension in his shoulders melt away. A moment later, Ruby shifted, and he looked over at her. Suddenly she looked older than he remembered, more gray in her hair and lines on her face.

Maybe he was just seeing things more clearly now.

“I’m worried about you,” she said softly, and it startled him.

She had always taken care of him, and always seemed to know what he needed before he could ask. She would have hot cocoa sitting on her kitchen table, steaming, waiting for him when he snuck in after a show. She’d cover him with the purple blanket before he knew he was even cold. She just knew him. But he couldn’t remember a time when she’d told him she was worried.

“I’m just tired,” he replied. “It’s been a bad year.”

“I know,” she said, and then she smiled. “Phil’s a good part, though. I’m so glad you brought him with you.”

Clint couldn’t hold back a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, I bet he’s not at this point.”

Ruby slapped him gently. “You’re not looking if you don’t see that he wants to be here. That he wants to do whatever it takes to get you feeling better. He looks like a man who would follow you to the ends of the earth to make sure you were safe.” She paused and added, “I adore him already.”

Somehow, her small endorsement sent a warm feeling all the way down to Clint’s toes, and he couldn’t help grinning. “Yeah, me too.”

“Why don’t you go rest?” Ruby said, standing up and reaching for his hand. He let her pull him off the bed, unwrap him from the blanket, and shuffle him out the door. “You want to finish teaching your boyfriend how to walk a wire tomorrow, you’ll need more energy.”

He nodded and let himself be shooed to the door of his bedroom. He turned before she could get past him, though, and wrapped her in a bear hug. He breathed in the freesia scent of her shampoo and gripped her tightly. She hugged him back just as hard before she let go, gave him a wink, and headed back downstairs. Clint let himself into the room, toed his shoes off, and stretched out on the bed.

He was sound asleep in under a minute.


	6. Chapter 6

Phil found Clint asleep in their room, sprawled across the whole bed and snoring lightly, with his face pressed hard into a down pillow. He looked relaxed and young again in sleep. One of the first things Phil had noticed once he’d been back to noticing things was that Loki, the bastard, seemed to have aged Clint by years in the few days he had him. The lines in Clint’s face had seemed deeper, his eyes were tired all the time, and he’d lost any appearance of youth that had been lingering into his forties.

Now, though, stretched out in jeans and a flannel, he looked younger than he had last week. Phil watched him sleep until Clint tensed, winced in a dream. Phil moved to the bed and sat down next to Clint, rubbed his hand through Clint’s hair and across his cheekbone. It was still early in the evening and he’d rather wake Clint now than let him get trapped in a nightmare.

“Hey,” he said as Clint opened his eyes blearily.

“Hey,” Clint replied with a smile. His voice was gravelly from sleep, but it was warm, inviting.

Phil felt a pull in his chest at Clint’s smile, so he leaned over and kissed him gently, long and slow. Clint pushed himself up into it, and he ran his tongue over Phil’s lip, like he was tasting the coffee from after dinner. Phil pulled Clint up, into his arms and ran his hand through Clint’s hair as they kissed. Finally they pulled back and just grinned at each other.

“Feel better?” Phil asked.

Clint nodded. “Yeah. Ruby helped.”

Phil saw a sparkle in Clint’s eye at Ruby’s name and he nodded. “I imagine she’s good at that.”

Clint shrugged and slung his feet off the bed and onto the floor. He leaned into Phil’s shoulder. “Perspective, you know?” He paused. “Theme of the weekend.”

Phil chuckled. “Yeah. Theme of the year, maybe,” he said, and he felt Clint go still next to him. He looked over and Clint nodded.

“Yeah.”

“The others are out at the fire. You wanna join them?”

“Sure,” Clint replied, and he stood and stretched. “Clean fall air’ll help.” He swapped out his flannel for a sweatshirt, and they headed downstairs and outside to join the others.

Jake had a guitar and was just fiddling around – the kind of fiddling around that seemed magical around a fire. They sat and listened for a bit, and then Isaac started telling a story. Phil stood and stretched his legs, and made his way over to a nearby picnic table as Clint joined in the story with a laugh.

The fire danced in Phil’s eyes, smoke swirled above the fire like an almost-transparent blanket, and laughter floated underneath. He looked over at Clint, who was wearing his favorite green sweatshirt, faded jeans, and canvas flip-flops. He’d had the sweatshirt since Phil met him and it was faded from a deep forest green to almost a mint. It was a little bit too big, even with his shoulders and biceps, and it was frayed at the neck. It hugged him, though, and Phil watched as he rubbed his fingers absently at the sleeves.

Christopher started telling a story about a difficult crowd at the circus, and, despite the earlier outburst between them at dinner, Clint was chiming in and his face was flushed from laughing so much. Phil watched as Christopher added a detail (“The guy was a hipster before hipsters existed!”) and Clint’s face crinkled as he belly-laughed. Phil sat at the picnic table and watched Clint’s face without really listening to the story.

“You seem distracted,” Ruby said as she poured herself some sangria from the pitcher on the old, cracked picnic table.

Phil looked up at her from where he was straddling the bench of the table and he took a sip of his beer and nodded. “I guess I am.”

Ruby sat down across from him and shoved the bowl of tortilla chips that was sitting between them aside so that she could stretch her arms across the table, silently asking for Phil’s hands. They’d been hanging out for a day and a half and Phil felt completely comfortable offering her his hands, and she took them in hers, rubbing his palms with her thumbs. “Why?” she asked.

Phil leaned into her touch a little; he was convinced her hands were magic. “You know that thing his face does when he’s laughing really hard?”

She looked back toward Clint and nodded. “When his eyes crinkle,” she said.

“Yeah. His eyes crinkle and his face scrunches up and it’s like he’s got so much laughter he has to hold some of it in,” Phil said. “He’s doing that here.”

“That’s good, right?” she prodded.

Phil sighed and looked back at her. “Of course. I just haven’t seen it in a while.” he began, and then he looked away. “It’s not bad.”

“I think he’s pretty happy with you,” she said, rubbing harder against his palms. He looked down at her hands, seeing the skin just starting to loosen with age, seeing the creases from too much sun over the years.

“He’s getting back to being happy,” Phil offered.

They were quiet for a few minutes before Ruby said what Phil had been waiting for. She had, after all, been absent from their conversation earlier. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

He met her steely gaze and nodded. “Yes.” Her eyes were searching, but she wasn’t demanding. Her hands never slowed their pace of massaging his.

“You helped him through it, though,” she said, and it wasn’t a question, except in how it was.

“Yes,” he started, but then the guilt that had been lurking for months reared up again. “No.” He sucked in a breath. “I don’t know.”

Ruby leaned back a little and raised an eyebrow.

Phil sighed. “I helped him by not being dead.”

“Not de—Oh. You were hurt in the fight with those aliens?” she asked, and Phil could see how much she loved Clint; that was clear from the moment she set eyes on him, and she was trying to help Phil. She cared about him already because Clint did.

“Yes,” he answered. “Actually, I was declared dead for forty or something seconds, and my recovery has been rough. This is my first major trip since then, really.”

She leaned back and cocked her head, like she was seeing him differently now. “Clint must have been scared to death when you were hurt,” she said, but he was good at subtle interrogation and he knew when it was being practiced on him. She saw the layers of the story underneath that simplification.

“He wasn’t around when it happened, and my boss told his team I was dead. He didn’t find out differently for a few days.”

Her eyes narrowed and she actually pulled her hands from his and crossed her arms across her chest. “He grieved for you,” she said, and her voice was dark and low.

“When I finally came around I convinced my boss to tell everyone what happened, but yes. He thought I was dead for a week.” Phil dropped his eyes to the table. “He was a mess when I finally got to see him.” He remembered the dark bruises under Clint’s eyes, the shadowed looks he would throw at Phil before ducking away, holding his arms close all the time. He remembered Clint’s refusal to be alone with Phil until Natasha finally locked the hospital room door behind her one day with a glare. Clint had still stood in a corner for fifteen minutes before letting Phil hold his hand and tell him he wasn’t angry and didn’t blame him.

“Your boss lied to him for a week?” she asked, her words careful, guarded. He had an image of Ruby and her long, grey ponytail facing Nick Fury. He’d bet she could hold her own.

Phil nodded. “He thought he had to, at the time. And then the chaos didn’t let him correct it until Clint spent a week blaming himself. Even after he found out I was alive he held back because he’s so god damned hard on himself.”

She smiled sadly. “He’s always been too hard on himself,” she said.

Phil knew an opening when he saw it, and he was ready to move on. Any more to the story would have to be Clint’s to tell. “Tell me more about when he was a kid?” he asked, looking back over at Clint, who was telling a story, using his hands to talk the way he always did.

“He was ten and his brother was fourteen,” she said. She was quiet for a moment while they both watched Clint stretch his arms wide to tell his story, and she chuckled. “They were both really quiet and reserved when I met him. I was twenty-nine, and he didn’t trust adults as far as he could spit back then.” She looked at Phil and smiled. “He loved my big cats. He was crazy-brave and kept sneaking into their pens when I wasn’t around. I even found him sleeping right outside of the lion’s cage with one hand on Triand’s paw one night.”

Phil thought that image might warm him for the rest of his life.

Her voice grew sad and Phil saw her hunch a little bit. “He and his brother didn’t come from a good place, and back then Clint was small and a little too brave. Some of the meaner adults started to notice him, and it was only a few months before Trick realized how talented Clint was and started training him. Training, though,” she stopped, and there were tears in her eyes.

Phil leaned forward and took her hands, startling a sigh from her. “I know he was abused at the circus. He told me. He also said there wasn’t anything anyone else could do. Trick was too powerful there.”

“We _tried_ ,” she said. “Isaac would pull him to help with sets and I would pull him to do lessons, but we couldn’t stop it. Isaac tried standing up to Trick once and got a beating, too. Clint always said –“ she paused and took a heavy breath. “He always said he deserved it. That Trick was just training him to do better. I was so glad when –“

There was a shout and then everything was silent. Phil looked over and felt an all-too-familiar fear snake into his chest. Clint’s chair was strewn behind him and he was hunched over on the ground, pulling sharply at his hair and rocking on his heels.

Isaac was kneeling next to him and Phil could hear his deep voice. “Clint. Clint, stop.”

Phil stood and jogged over. Suzy and Chloe were on their feet, but hanging back, unsure. Christopher moved to stand with Ruby as she approached carefully.

Clint was curled in a ball in front of his toppled lawn chair and his breathing was erratic, rushed, short. Phil looked up at Isaac, whose green eyes shone with worry in the firelight. “Step back?” Phil asked gently, and Isaac nodded and stood, stepping away. Phil knelt down next to Clint, but he didn’t touch him.

He spoke sternly, but he still didn’t touch. “Clint. Look up at me. It’s Saturday and you’re in Hocking Hills at Ruby’s place, you were telling a story, Clint. Look up at me, please? Clint. I’m right here. I’m here with you, please look up.”

Clint raised his head slowly, like someone was pressing down on his head and he was forcing his chin up. He met Phil’s gaze for a second, but his gaze slipped off to the side, around the fire. His skin was pale and he was sweating, his neck muscles taut.

“Clint. Look at me,” Phil repeated, and Clint tried again to meet his gaze, but his eyes slipped to the fire again. “I’m going to take your hand, okay?” Clint nodded, and Phil reached out slowly and took Clint’s hand and placed it on his own chest, over his heart. “I’m right here.”

Clint’s breath hitched and he clenched his eyes shut, his breath scratchy and uneven, too fast and too hard.

“Clint, breathe with me, okay? I’m counting. One – breathe in. Two – breathe out. Three – breathe in.” Everyone around them seemed to melt away and Phil only worried about getting Clint to breathe properly. He could feel the heat from the fire at his back, sharp and pressing, but all his concentration was on Clint. It took longer than he liked, but finally Clint relaxed a fraction and his chest rose and fell regularly.

He finally looked at Phil, and his eyes were pleading, asking a question that Phil couldn’t understand. He moved Clint’s hand to his own cheek, though, feeling the scrape of callouses on his skin, and spoke again, guessing at the question. It was always the same question. “You’re safe. I’m safe. Natasha’s safe. She’s not here, but she’s safe. I spoke to her this afternoon and she and Maria are safe at Maria’s house. Okay? We’re all safe.”

Clint nodded and sat back on his heels, and then sat down heavily on the dirty ground. He pulled his knees up to his chest and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” Phil answered, and then he looked around, finding Ruby a foot away and watching carefully. “Can you get a glass of ice water, please?”

She nodded and went inside. The others were standing in a wary circle now, but Clint wasn’t paying attention to them. He had his face buried in his knees, and Phil ran a hand up and down his back steadily until Ruby came back with a clear glass. He took it with a nod and picked up Clint’s hand and pressed the glass into it.

Clint’s hand shook, but he took a long pull from the glass and blew a shaky breath out after. He finally looked around and noticed his friends, and he uncurled a bit. “Sorry,” he said to all of them. He looked up at Christopher pointedly. “I’m sorry.” It came out as a whisper, jagged and rough. Phil looked up at Christopher, who was standing closest with a look on his face that said he wanted to hit something. It was anger, pure and hot.

The anger seemed to melt away like candle wax, though, as Christopher knelt down in front of Clint and reached out slowly to put a hand on Clint’s forearm. Clint looked at the hand like it was completely foreign. Phil supposed it was.

Christopher spoke, his voice low and sharp. “You got nothin’ to be sorry for, Clint. Nothin’. You’re a fighter. You have been since the day I met you, and whatever fight you had last year put you through the wringer and then some. Whatever fight you had took too much from you. You don’t deserve that, and you sure as hell don’t deserve me pickin’ fights with you out of habit and years of stupid resentment.” He pulled a long breath in, and Clint unfurled a little, sat up straighter, and stared. “ _I’m_ the one who’s sorry,” Christopher finished, and his voice was hardly audible. He reached out and pulled Clint toward him.

Phil leaned out of the way, and Clint melted into Christopher, wrapped his arms around him tight, like he was hanging on for life. Phil stood and looked over at Ruby, who was holding a hand in front of her mouth. Isaac was smiling and leaning into Jake, who was nodding.

"Chris," Clint whispered, and Phil could only barely hear it.

"Yeah, kiddo?" Christopher replied gently, leaning back to look into Clint's eyes.

"I killed so many people," he said, and he was begging with his eyes, imploring Christopher for forgiveness, or understanding, or both. "I didn't mean to," Clint added through gritted teeth.

Christopher cocked his head and nodded. "It's not who you are," he said, and his voice was firm and brooked no argument.

Clint started to argue anyway. "But I - " he began.

Christopher interrupted him, louder this time. "It's not who you are." Clint swallowed and stared. "You said I found all your faults all the time, and you're right. I kept looking for mistakes and screw ups from you. I know which ones are real, and killing a lot of people isn't who you are. You might've had to do that at one point in your life, but it's not you. I know you. I've been an asshole to you most of your life, but I know who you are."

 


	7. Chapter 7

The morning dawned crisp and skirted the edge of cold. Clint sat on the step of the back deck sipping his steaming mug of dark, rich coffee and watched the sun climb through the mist.

"Far cry from the city, huh?" Jake said as he sat down next to Clint, close enough to brush his shoulder. It felt comforting to Clint. He closed his eyes and could almost hear the roustabouts pounding tent stakes into the hard ground and animals whinnying and grumbling in their trailers.

"It's good," he answered, and then he opened his eyes and grinned at Jake. He had a thought about how each of his friends had a role back in the circus, and they'd each done it again here, this weekend. Jake was the one who pulled him back from the fights and out of the moment, dragged him to Isaac to get him calmed down. He was already calm today, though, after the tumult of last night, the roller coaster   of emotion between another goddamned panic attack and being enveloped in Christopher's arms. Today felt like it would have to be easier.

"Phil gonna try the wire this morning?" Jake asked, staring out at the wire in the distance.

Clint chuckled. "You think he's ready?"

"Ready as he’ll ever be. We have a net for a reason, and anyway, he looks like a guy who knows how to take a fall."

Clint looked over sharply, and Jake shrugged.

"I dunno. He just looks like he knows how to fall."

Clint nodded. "Yeah, I guess he does."

"You feelin' better this morning?" Jake asked, and he sipped his coffee without looking at Clint.

Clint didn't answer right away. "Yeah," he finally said. "I think so."

He was, too. He'd been wrung out and limp after his panic attack last night, his body shaky and wracked with exhaustion. Phil had led him upstairs without a word, helped him strip and change into his pajamas, and tucked him into the bed carefully. He'd laid there trembling for a while, but Phil's chest rising and falling in even breaths behind him had soothed him to sleep, and he woke feeling more rested than he had in a very long time.

He and Jake sat quietly after that, watching the sun rise, listening to the others clean up the kitchen from breakfast, watching Christopher haul some more wood from the pile next to the shed back up to the house.

Clint loved how Jake was just there. That was his trick, Clint's whole life, always being where he needed to be, unobtrusive but steady. Unlike Christopher, Jake didn't even seem to own a temper, and Clint wouldn't believe he even had one if he hadn't seen once, in full force.

"You remember that time you whipped me?" Clint asked.

Jake chuckled. "Only had to do it once."

Clint laughed, too. "I had it coming. Learned my lesson. Never did it again, either." He remembered the fire in Jake's eyes matched his red hair, and his voice had been low and dangerous as he smacked Clint hard enough to bring tears to his eyes

"Never stole again, ever?" Jake asked, and his voice was gentle, but he couldn't hide his curiosity.

Clint didn't blame him. "Nope. I did a lot of shit worse, but I never stole a thing my whole life after that. I thought you were never gonna talk to me again."

"I knew you were bein' influenced by Barney, but that wasn't an excuse." Jake's voice hardened a bit as he mentioned Clint's brother.

Clint didn't flinch at Barney's name, just had a fleeting wish that things had turned out different for his brother. He sipped his coffee and nodded. "Yeah, you were right. Plus you hit real hard, old man," he added, and he leaned into Jake's shoulder for a moment.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm old now, that's for sure."

Clint shrugged. "You seem to be getting around okay to me."

"Yeah. I'm okay, punk. Let's go see if your boyfriend can walk the wire, huh?"

They stood and went inside, and Clint set his cup in the sink. Phil wandered up and slipped his hand into Clint's, and it felt warm and safe, like this place.

"You ready to walk?" Clint said, and Suzy whistled.

"He's ready, Clint! He's totally ready!" she said, and Clint would have sworn her voice was made out of bubbles this morning. She wore a ponytail and had a powder blue baseball cap pulled down over her blonde hair.

Chloe had her arm wrapped around Suzy's shoulder and wore a matching ball cap and matching smile. "I'll make sure the car's warmed up for the trip to the hospital," she said. Clint glared and she laughed. "Kidding! He's gonna do great!"

Phil, dressed in a purple sweatshirt, jeans, and faded tennis shoes, groaned. "No hospitals."

Suzy laughed and tugged at Phil's hand. "Come on! Let's do this!"

Clint followed them outside and back to where the wire was set. He had his phone on video and he turned the ball cap he was wearing so it was backward and out of his way.

Phil elbowed him and said, "You look like a frat boy."

"Insults won't make me turn off the video, Phil," he jabbed back. "Natasha needs an early Christmas present. Come on, go on up."

Phil looked up at the wire and gulped visibly. "You coming with me?"

Clint shook his head. "I'll be waiting on the other side."

"Ready to come get me?"

Clint could hear the nerves in Phil's voice, which was really unusual. He leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Ready to high-five you and send you back again."

Phil looked up at the wire, then back and Clint. He took a deep, steadying breath and headed up the ladder. Suzy followed close behind, and Clint climbed the ladder on the other side and watched Suzy lean over to give Phil a last minute pep talk. Clint held up his phone and waited for Phil to square his shoulders and face the wire. He hit record. Phil hesitated and Suzy said something to make him laugh, and Clint loved watching him with her. She made a good teacher.

Phil squared his shoulders again, took a deep breath, and stepped out.

Isaac and Ruby called from the ground, reassuring cheers as Phil practically ran across the wire, taking the 'keep forward motion or you'll fall for sure' advice quite literally. His face was the picture of concentration the whole time, though, and there was only once when Clint sucked a breath of worry in sharply. Phil was across a blink after that and in Clint's arms, laughing hysterically. Clint was laughing, too, a full belly laugh that filled his chest and warmed him down to his toes, and he couldn't stop. He tugged Phil with him as he sat down on the platform and just laughed and laughed, and when his laughter brought tears, Phil held him tight and laughed along.

Clint finally wiped his eyes and grinned at Phil. "You fucking did it on your first try! You bastard!"

Phil just shrugged and gestured over to Suzy. "I learned from the best," he said, "And I had you waiting. How could I fall?"

Clint stared at him, stared into his piercing blue eyes, and there he saw reassurance and love and confidence, and for the first time in a very long time, he saw a future. He saw past the panic and the fear, past the guilt and past the hesitation, to the future, the one where Phil was always waiting for him and he was always waiting for Phil, ready to catch each other at the other end of a wire. He stood up and pulled Phil with him. "I'm going back. Follow me after?"

Phil grinned even wider. "I'll always follow you. Come get me if I fall?"

Clint nodded and breathed in a lungful of the clean air of autumn in the hills as they both stood up. "Every time," he replied, and then he crossed the wire into Suzy's arms, and his family cheered Phil on as he crossed again, more confident, a little slower this time, and Clint held his arms out to him and embraced him at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for sticking around. Or coming back. You know, thanks for reading this! I am grateful to my amazing beta reader - altheterrible - who was super patient and awesome. Thanks again to everyone who kind of got shafted back in August when I stopped posting. I'm glad you read this in the end.


End file.
